Animus
by metal-mako-dragon
Summary: After the apparent suicide of a prominent businessman the F.B.I. are called to investigate what they think is the fourth in rash of murders. The fates of many are twined together during the ensuing investigation- DeathNote/FAKE Crossover
1. Matutinal

* * *

Chapter 1 Matutinal 

It had been a long time since I had seen no snow on a winter's day such as this in New York. The air was crisp and dry and the sidewalks were seas of heavy coats and thick scarves. Yet not a single cloud filled that lazy morning sky, with the sun barely out wisping through the thin atmosphere to fall uselessly on the people below. It made the buildings look like monsters in their elevation, only the tops of the highest glowing with any sort of conviction.

"What the hell is the matter with you today Berkley?" the tone was as icy as the weather, the very thought of having to put up with it making me want to cringe and shrink mindlessly away, "You've been out of it this whole morning, ever since I picked you up and, oh yeah it _was_ me who picked you up so you should be more…"

"What?" I asked raising an eyebrow above my glasses and looking sidelong at the driver as she left the sentence hanging.

"Appreciative," she finished with a snap, thankfully looking back to the road to continue.

Diana had shown up that morning, standing in my doorway freshly dressed and holding two cups of coffee and looking like she would rather be in bed. The fact that she had looked at me when she'd said those exact words herself hadn't made me feel any better. Well, I'm not being big headed but she, well…never mind. But to get back to the point, she had every right to want to back in bed, and thus every right not to drag mine out of my own at five in the morning. I had been very close to either ignoring that annoying tap at my door or just going to the next level and shooting whoever was on the other side of it. I had stumbled blindly, my glasses probably laying in some unknown region, cursing the winter morning darkness and throwing the locks open with a grunt and a scowl. Diana had just pushed past my forbidding form and made herself at home. I hadn't even needed to ask her what she was doing here, she filled me in as soon as she hit the chair.

"Derek Halloren is dead."

I had just stumbled back over to her, knocking into the coffee table on the way, and thrown myself down into the opposite chair with a scowl.

"What are you talking about?" was all I had graced her with.

But of course, being Diana, she had graced me with a whole lot more back and when she was through with me I felt like I'd not only been hit by a steam train but taken for a ride in it as well.

I sat and listened to her tell me of the co-president of Halloren and Grawley's death with a blurry fascination, a little shocked by the realisation that the president of the most prominent law firm in the entire of New York was dead. Not just for the fact that he was the president of a prodigious law firm, but more for the fact that he was my uncle. Diana knew this but still continued on in that impersonal way, not because she was heartless, more because she knew me well enough not to be sentimental.

"They think it was suicide," she'd said, yawning loudly as I rummaged around to find my shoes, "but it smacks of more than that, if you get me?"

"Yeah I get you," I had said back distractedly, fishing my other shoe out from under my bed, "but one thing I don't get."

"What's that?"

"Why the hell are you here telling me about it?"

The F.B.I. wanted state police help it turned out, people with a knowledge of the most prominent local business man and his affairs, both business and personal. There was only one way, she had said, to catch a murderer on home turf, and that was with the home team. I had just snorted at her analogy and went blindly searching for my glasses in the bathroom. The tile was cold against my feet but I ignored it, bumping into the bath and the toilet on my way to the dull cavernous sink. The light almost blinded me into a blur when I yanked it on, trying to place my hand on the glass shelf, let alone my glasses. Diana had of course helpfully already picked them up and was standing to my left, smirking and dangling them in front of me.

"So you should be able to help me solve this one eh Berk?" she'd said with a small smile, "Even if you are half blind."

The city rushed by us, the morning traffic not nearly as constricting as it would be by eight, and I just enjoyed the feeling of it being near Christmas. I mean, not to say that I'm a sentimentalist, but there's nothing wrong with liking Christmas just for the fact that it's Christmas, right? Yet I felt dismally, as the lights changed from red to green and back, that this journey was speeding me to more than just Christmas.

* * *

The waiting room was entirely dark. I didn't want to turn on the light, so I just sat there, my box in my arms, and looked towards the window to watch the sun come over the horizon. I guess I'd never been here for a sunrise, here in the headquarters, well not in my division anyway. The huge glass windows sprawled the wall, giving a beautiful view of the city all the way to the docks. I guess…I guess I was getting a little nostalgic…but then, well, this was the force where I grew up so to speak. It was going to be hard to leave it behind.

"So you thought that slipping out behind our backs was the best way to go huh?"

The voice sent both surprise and unease coursing through me, yet I didn't turn round or show any of these emotions. I just kept staring at the window and hoped he wouldn't bother me too long. I just wanted to say my goodbyes by myself, that was all. That way I didn't have to face anything I didn't want to, I could leave on my own terms, not anyone else's.

"I've been through all that already," I said back, shifting the box in my arms and turning to look at the figure in the shadows, "no need to drag it out."

"That's some way to talk about it rookie," the figure said, stepping forwards to reveal my partner…ex partner, his face as solemn as the morning and his stance one of unknown feeling.

His greying blonde hair was slicked back and wet, not dried from the shower. Knowing him he'd probably meant to get up early and forgotten, washing and running out the door just so he could stand there and lecture me at six in the morning. His icy grey eyes were care worn and a little sad looking, no matter how neutral he was trying to look. I could feel the awkwardness radiating from his figure, the tense stance of his body and the strange slant to his shoulders. His long, dark woollen coat seemed too big for him in this light; his shirt, I noted absently as he unfolded his arms, was buttoned up all wrong. I smiled a little humourlessly, the turn to my lips disappearing as I adopted a more forbidding countenance.

"Don't call me that Leon," I said back with a scowl, looking back to the window, "I'm twenty five."

"Yeah, and still a rookie," I dared a glance at him as he walked over and sat beside me; he was smiling now, thank god.

"What are you doing here anyway?" I asked, looking away to the window once more.

"Ah heck give me some credit," he grinned looking round at me over the thick collar of his long coat, "I knew you'd be outta here by morning. I just…wanted to make sure you weren't leaving on a bad note you know?"

"…A bit late for that isn't it?" I said back a little bitterly.

"Heck, yeah I guess it is," he sighed, letting his head fall back to look up at the ceiling.

The silence was slowly breaking, like the dawn, the general noise of a waking city floating up to our sixth floor view. I just stared at it like if I did, then this would all just work out somehow. I mean, my plan to just leave without a fuss wasn't working, so I thought I had better pray that everything else did. If I couldn't work out this one tiny task then I was sure I was royally screwed.

"It wasn't your fault you know," he said suddenly, his voice a little hesitant.

"Yeah I know that," I said tightly, "it's not me I'm worried about though is it?"

"Look, Kay…" he trailed off as he looked at me, his eyes finally meeting with mine for the first time since he'd arrived; I think he must have seen more than I'd wanted him to because he stopped there.

"What?" I asked him morosely.

"…Nothing," he finally sighed, leaving the silence truly empty.

The sun was slivering its way over the water, making the bridge look like some hideous sea serpent rising out of the black depths. I shivered despite the warmth of the building, perhaps knowing subconsciously just how cold it was going to be outside. The air even looked crisp, adopting that thin look that winter often brought.

"I'd better go," I said as strongly as I could, standing before I could let anything stop me and make me linger.

"Yeah, don't wanna be late on your first day I guess," Leon grinned half heartedly.

"Leon…" I smiled despite myself, looking down at the contents of the box in my hand, my shinny new detective shield staring back up at me, "…it's six fifteen in the morning. I'm not going to be late for work if I don't leave now. I'm leaving so I can leave, that's all there is to it."

"I know," he said with a sad smile, "but I can make my own excuses right?"

"Yeah, I guess…"

"I'll miss you kid. You did good, don't let anyone else tell you different," his face was stern as he eyed me, stern but kind.  
"Oh they will," I smirked, "they will."

I turned and walked away, shoes clicking against the polished floor, the stairwell hauntingly quiet and didn't look back until I was two blocks away in my car and the building was out of sight.

* * *

"Damn it's cold," I breathed out sharply as I opened the car door, letting in a rush of freezing air.

"Well hell Berkley it is almost Christmas, what did you expect?" Diana shrugged as she to exited the car, slamming the door behind her a locking it.

"Yeah," I said back distractedly as I looked across the street to the large building made of dusky glass and stone.

Its grandeur was optimised by the magnificent entranceway of carved stone and large opulent doors flanked on either side by vicious looking marble lions. The windows were well spaced showing the size of the rooms and the height was considerable. The only thing that managed to ruin the prolific sight was the thick yellow police tape surrounding the white chalk line on the pavement to the right of the large stone steps.

"Let's go inside," I said quickly but professionally, leading the way across the street.

Diana followed with a nod, her small skirt and suit jacket making me feel cold despite the jackets faux fur trim. She seemed to be able to survive in any weather wearing virtually the same sort of outfit. I marvelled at her perseverance, wondering to myself if it was now more just habit.

"Commissioner Rose," the cop at the door nodded to me respectfully, "Mr Grawley is waiting inside for you, sir."

"Thanks," I said back, forgetting his everyday face as soon as I stepped through the huge doors into the large reception area.

The staircase to the right was the first thing to catch my eye, it always was. When I was younger I used to slide down it when my uncle wasn't looking. The thought made me shiver, the memories a little too close and too far for comfort. There were two policemen and a man in a suit talking around a small table to the right of the reception desk, its impressive length spanning for quite a way. The large windows at either end of the area let in a considerable amount of light and I was glad to be able to see the sun while still inside. The officers were nodding and talking to the man quietly, one asking questions while the other took notes in a small pad. The man they were talking to must have been about fifty, his grey hair short with a wave from his centre parting. His eyes were also a strange shade of grey, hinting that they many once have held more blue than they did now. His suit was a dark black, most fitting for the occasion, and I recognised him as Aaron Gawley, partner in business (or more precisely ex-partner) to Derek Halloren.

"Berkley," Diana said softly, moving in close beside me to speak in low tones into my ear, "the F.B.I. don't want anyone to know that you're working with us okay? For all they know you're here on personal business."

"Right," I nodded, "so I take it I get no help from my precinct when dealing with suspects hmm?"

"Well, not unless they go undercover, but definitely not blatantly obvious help," Diana said shaking her head slowly, "you can't show that your investigating other than out of your own curiosity, and even then that has to be kept bellow suspicion."

"Great," I sighed, "but I can think of a few ways to get help. Well, why don't we get going?"

"I just hope that you know what your doing, you don't have to do this you know," she said with a look of almost what looked like appeal on her face, "I don't want you to do anything stupid."

"Thanks Diana, it's nice to know you have confidence in me," I smirked back, lowering my voice as two more officers walked past us and out the door.

"Well, murder is hardly a game Berkley," Diana said back, "the hand of fate works in mysterious ways you know."

"No, not the hand of fate Dee Dee, it's much more complicated than that," I said walking towards the small table and my first suspect, "the hand of a murderer."

AN: Hmm, think the ending is perhaps a bit cheesy, but oh well! This is my first FAKE fic even though I finished the series of Manga ages ago. So I'm going to try and keep the characters as close to the Manga as possible, but don't shout to loudly at me if you think their acting a bit out of character! This is my first FAKE fic after all. Anyways! Please R&R, feedback welcome!


	2. Rookie Again

**Chapter 2**

**Rookie again**

The sun was too bright, like a burning disc of plasma in the cerulean sky.

"Sir? Sir, your newspaper?"

"Oh, thank you."

"Say, aren't you…"

"Yes. Good day to you."

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…"

"Forget it."

I think I was going to be getting ready to these sorts of conversations, but then from the feeling in my gut as I kept my face passive and calm, I don't think I'd ever get used to them. I didn't even bother to look at the front page headline, I knew what it was. I just slipped back between the people busy ignoring me on the street, that was the way I'd rather have it. My car was warm and quiet and I held onto the comforting paradigm that it could shield me from the eyes of the millions of people outside.

Thankfully the traffic wasn't as entirely horrendous as I had thought it would be. I managed to crawl along at an almost steady pace, watching the road with intent interest and ignoring the eyes I knew were turned on me, even if they weren't. I felt like I was on a raft in the middle of a fast moving ocean; when I was outside I felt like I was drowning. Rather severe I know, but then I wasn't used to this and more importantly I didn't want it. Fame, glory, disgrace and hatred; they all went hand in hand, and I had found out the hard way. A nice neat little package designed to make your life hell and leave you no where to turn. On one side well wishers on the other people rife with odium and disgust. Friends and foe mixed and switched, and my head was still spinning with the speed with which my entire world had been turned upside down.

The traffic stopped. Standstill. Might as well I guess, at least see what they had to say about me…I was going to find out sooner or later. Yet it was hard, hard to look at my picture on the front of the dirty white sheets in my hands and watch them quiver as I turned the pages to find the story. As monster or saviour, I would always be known by someone, the particulars of why seemed to be of little consequence; yet…why was I shaking? This was like…some sort of curse. Now it was just about finding how to break it.

The building three blocks down beckoned to me, and I heard its both jeering and welcoming call. How would they receive me? No, better not to care. Better not to feel. No way to be hurt then, no way.

Just keep reading…and don't feel, don't care.

You can get through it that way.

"Dee."

"Mrphh."

"Dee."

"Wha-mrpph?"  
"Dee!"

"WHAT!?"

"Get off my leg, I'm getting cramp."

The office was busy that morning, the bustling of voices and phones and footsteps all rampaging past outside the office of Dee Laytner and Ryo McLean. The young chestnut haired man was sitting studiously at his desk, writing out a report on a bank robbery he and Dee had successfully foiled, and was getting rather irritated with the lack of work ethic his partner was showing. Dee was sprawling not so studiously from his repositioned chair beside Ryo and had his black socked feet in his lap. His head had been buried in his arm at the time of questioning, and Ryo was getting a little more than fed up at Dee's murmuring.

"I'm doing this for you, you know," Ryo muttered back to Dee's persistent use of his lap for a footrest, "so the least you could do is let me do it in peace."  
"What do you mean you're doing it for me? You always do the reports," Dee said back with a frown, leaning back in his chair with his hands behind his head.

"Yes but that's not the way it's supposed to work you ape," Ryo sighed back, "I just always seem to end up doing them."

"Right, so you're not doing it for me then," Dee grinned back triumphantly.

"Just get your feet off me," Ryo snipped out what was definitely not a question.

"Okay, okay," Dee complied, slipping his feet from Ryo's lap and into his shoes that sat under his chair, "you're grouchy today."

"Well why shouldn't I be?" Ryo said tightly, "Considering someone who didn't have to be on first shift this morning kept me up all night?"

"Well you weren't complaining last night," Dee muttered.

"Dee will you be quiet? I need you to just be quiet okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, sure," Dee sighed back, "you want me to do anything other than be quiet?"

Dee instantly regretted his words when Ryo's eyes lit up and he smiled at him expectantly. It wasn't for the fact that he had made Ryo smile, always an ace in Dee's hand, but for the fact that it was the look that usually preceded Dee being asked to do something. I mean it wasn't that he was really lazy, but he had been up late last night and, well, he was tired and…

"Well, yeah actually now that you mention it," Ryo's eyes seemed to brighten at the usually-so-hard-to-pull-words from Dee, "that new guy that's coming in today, you could go and met him and bring him here for me."

"Huh, why?" Dee asked, too confused to be stubborn.  
"The Chief's been re-assigned Dee, you can't rely on him to take care of all the bureaucratic business now."

Dee nodded a little gruffly, the sight of the Chief's almost sad grin as he drove off still in his mind. It had seemed a little unreal, losing the man who had been there, well, forever. He just always was there, there to heal up the bureaucratic nonsense and the faux pas, ignore the stupid requests of his subordinates, shout the holy shit out of Dee…now there was no one there and it was odd to feel that strange loss of backup. It was like being sent out into a fire fight with only your revolver and no one at your back. Even when he'd been replaced it would still be odd, still have that feeling I guess. Dee shivered and focused back on Ryo.

"We're still waiting on a replacement and Commissioner Rose is out on an urgent call," Ryo noted the slight tightening of Dee's eyes at the mention of Berkely Rose and tried not to laugh at the sight, "so he asked if we could just keep him covered until he gets back."

"And why us exactly?" Dee sighed, already knowing the answer.

"Because…umm, I mean we're…uh," Ryo faltered and then turned hurriedly back to his computer.

"Yeah, that sneaky son of a bitch," Dee growled, "what did he say to you this time?"

"Just that we were the most reliable pair on the force and so he'd like us to handle it," Ryo said with ruffle of his hand through his hair and a shy look.

"Uh huh," Dee said back with a disbelieving smirk, "if I change that to "I think you're the best man for the job Ryo and so why don't you just come have dinner at my place," then I think I might just have it verbatim."

"Dee, he didn't say that," Ryo said back with a smile, Dee's jealousy too humorous to get him into an argument, "So could you? Go and meet him? He should be here in about ten minutes."  
"Yeah why not," Dee scrubbed his face with his hand and then ran it up through his hair, "got nothing better to do."

"Thanks," Ryo smiled again, making Dee feel all warm inside but covering it quite neatly.

"Want some coffee while I'm out?"

"Yeah, thanks man."

The office was busier than it sounded and Dee soon found himself apologising and receiving apologies almost every ten steps for some bump or other. He wasn't quite sure why exactly it was so busy, but it just was. There were voices floating and shouting and shooting about all over the place but Dee was in no frame of mind to catch hold of any of the words, never mind the meanings behind them. Fighting his way through to the main desk he scanned the long benches and the people standing at reception for unfamiliar faces.

-Drake, Ted, Thom, Miranda,- Dee scored them off as he went, -Penelope, JJ, Fred…JJ? Shit don't make eye contact!-

Too late.

"DEE!"

It resounded like a tolling bell of doom around the already bustling office, yet no one but Dee took any notice of it; they were all too used to it already. The little streak of brown and grey that was JJ weaved expertly in and out of his co-workers and leaped for Dee with lightning speed. Dee tried to dodge but found himself hemmed in on all sides by people with wads of paper and parcels and other useless items. Resigned to his fate he just let the smaller man barrel into him, his eyes wide with conquest and the need to divulge.

"Did you hear the news?" JJ bubbled.

"What news, dammit JJ get off me!" Dee snapped mid sentence as he broke free from the grip JJ had on his arm.

"You haven't? Where have you been all morning!?"

"Just spit it out will you?" Dee growled, fed up already at being jostled this way and that by the constantly moving crowd around him.

"Derek Halloren, you know him right?" JJ said following Dee as he finally moved off towards the desk once more.

"Yeah sure, president of Halloren and Grawley," Dee waved a hand nonchalantly.

"That's right, well he's dead," JJ said matter-of-factly, "found him this morning on the sidewalk. They're saying he jumped from his office, was dead before he hit the ground from massive heart failure."

"Sheesh," Dee raised his eyebrows at the news, glad that he could finally put his hands on the reception desk and claim some space for himself, "that's pretty rough."  
"Yup," JJ replied, completely unaffected as he stared at Dee.

Dee's eye twitched as he smiled at Miranda, the girl behind the desk, watched the clock tick slowly by and tried to ignore JJ watching him out of the corner of his eye. Miranda smiled back and gave a short knowing laugh after looking at the starry eyes of the smaller man. Dee just shut his eyes and sighed predatorily through his nose.

"Haven't you got somewhere to be?" he asked JJ tightly.

"Not really, it's my lunch break."

"Well then why don't you go have lunch with Drake?" Dee snipped.

"Because I was going to ask you if you wanted to come."  
"Then why didn't you just ask me then?" Dee frowned in annoyance.

"I just did though," JJ said in innocent confusion.

"Well then, I'll say no," Dee grated out, riveting his eyes back to the clock.

"What _are _you doing?" JJ continued annoyingly.

"Waiting for someone," Dee replied.

"Who?"  
"No of your goddamn business."  
"No need to be like that," JJ rolled his eyes and sighed, "well I'm off for lunch then."  
"Right," Dee said monotonously.

He didn't look round as he listened blessedly to JJ's retreating footsteps through the din of the office. He hardly even heard the man walk up beside him and ask Miranda in a politely quiet yet distinguishable voice:

"Hello, I'm here to see Commissioner Rose?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, I'm afraid the Commissioner is…" Miranda started, but Dee took his chance and interrupted her.

"Hey Miranda that's okay, I'm here to greet today," he winked at her.

"Oh, okay Dee thanks," she smiled back.

Dee took in the picture of the man before him as he turned, trying to profile him before he introduced himself. The man was tall and slim, though not quite as tall as Dee himself. His hair was a staggeringly vibrant deep red, crimson almost, and was cut in a loose mop with hair falling into his blue eyes. His skin was quite pale but not freckly making his hair all the more striking. His blue eyes were dark, long and tapering, his nose not too long or too short, and his mouth surprisingly tight. He was attractive, but at the same time foreboding. His suit was a dark grey in hue and cut to fit yet not too expensive looking, and his detectives badge which hung loosely from his pocket was the shiniest Dee had ever seen. He didn't even think that his had been that shinny when the chief had handed it too him (albeit unwillingly).

"Hi," Dee said with a small smile, watching the man like a hawk, "I'm Dee Laytner,"

"Kay Braithwaite," the man said back with a nod after the slightest of hesitations, his blue eyes entirely serious.

"Rose won't be back for a while," Dee said with the least hostility he could, "so he's asked me to take care of you until then."

"Alright," Kay nodded back, picking up the box at his feet, "could you tell me where I can put this?"

"Yeah sure, just follow me," Dee nodded back.

Dee thought he was, in a nutshell, too serious on first impression. Dee knew he was young, he could tell by his youthful assets such as no wrinkles and good complexion, but then he looked so much older with that oh-so-severe look on his face and that stiff, straight posture that made him look like he'd never slouched in his entire life. Dee should know, Dee had slouched…a lot.

-Kids these days,- Dee smirked as he turned and led the way, Kay following behind him.

"So, Kay, rookie detective huh? How old are you anyway?" Dee asked, curious but really only trying to make conversation.

"Why?" came the overly suspicious reply.

"Well, uh, just curious I guess," Dee said as he weaved through the crowd, a little taken aback but trying not to show it.

"Twenty five," Kay replied.

"Oh," Dee commented, his need for conversation severely depleted, "that's pretty young.

Silence settled between them even in the midst of the hubbub of noise the office exuded. They weaved their way back through the crowd, a little harder now that there was a box included, and Dee found that there were a lot of people throwing glances and surprised looks at the new guy following him. He tried to ignore the stir but the glances and all out stares themselves were hard not to notice. Some people were eve whispering to their neighbours or pulling on shirt sleeves to point subtly to the redhead.

-Must be the hair,- Dee surmised, trying his best to take in his surroundings and focus on the stir all at the same time, -never have seen it that red naturally…if it is natural I guess.-

He ignored it for the time being, focusing on just making back to the office alive. It wasn't long before they stumbled out the other side, Dee sighing in relief and opening the door for the box laden Kay. Dee was given a nod instead of a thanks but just shrugged as he followed the redhead inside.

"Hey Ryo," he said clearing a space on his desk for the man to put down his box, "I found him. Do I get my biscuit now?"

"Did you bring my coffee?" Ryo asked without turning round as he finished off the report.

"Uhh…look it's really busy out there you know?" Dee argued.

"That's okay," Ryo smiled turning round, "I didn't really, oh!"

Dee frowned at Ryo's startled exclamation and frowned even deeper when he saw his partners eyes settled on the new guy.

"Oh Ryo, this is…" he started congenially, thinking it was better to wait to break the good news to his partner rather than blurt it right out.

"Kay Braithwaite right?" Ryo asked with a slightly wondering look.

Dee looked to the other man who seemed to stiffen even more than his already rigid posture at the recognition, his hands clenching slightly at his sides.

"What of it?" he replied tonelessly.

Now Dee knew that Ryo could sometimes be a complete air head when it came to the most simple of things, like "Ryo that man wants to shoot you" or "Ryo she's trying to kiss you", but he wasn't always so dull witted when it came to the little things. Emotions were one thing that he was usually on the ball about, and dealing with them was his speciality…well, as long as they were someone else's anyway. So at the small reactions from our new guest Ryo didn't push it any further, even if he did look a tiny bit startled by the reply.

"Yeah that's right," Dee said to Ryo in the silence, just to make some noise, adding to Kay a little tightly "so do you want some coffee too?"

"Yes thanks," Kay said with a slight nod, sitting down in one of the chairs beside Dee's desk with a look of complete neutrality.

"Right…I'll get the coffee."

"Well, that wasn't exactly what you could call helpful."

I looked up from the magazine I had been flicking half heartedly through, wondering to myself if it was really worth the fifty dollars for that little tweed jacket or if it was more important to be spending money on food this month…and more importantly worrying about Berkley. So I had been a little harsh this morning, but it had been five in the morning! I mean who gets up at that time, it had been pitch black! But I was over that now, honest, it was ten o'clock and I was feeling better. Two espressos and a fudge doughnut can go a long way to fill my heart with nothing but love. Yet now I felt that all my compassion had to be spared for the tall man standing over me, his look entirely unreadable as always, even if I knew he didn't really want it.

"What happened?" I asked with a small frown and an offering of a chocolate biscuit from the plate in front of me; well, it would have made me feel better.

"Grawley's just the same as always, stubborn and naïve," Berkley sighed as he took the seat opposite from me, "and absolutely no help other than to himself."

"So I take it he, let me guess, "didn't see anything, heard a scream and only walked into the room to see the window open, etc, etc"."

"Bingo."

I nodded back sympathetically. I definitely didn't need anyone telling me how frustrating it is to have your only witness be as unhelpful as the dead man himself. I had come close to either becoming prematurely bald due to hair-ripping or simply shooting the subject between the eyes to make myself feel better. It had never com to that thankfully, dead me tell not tales; or at least, that's how it used to be I suppose. Now thanks to the helpful world of pathology and our ever wonderful crime scene analysts the dead man could sometimes be more helpful than the living. I still would rather that old man Grawley could have had something for Berkley other than condolences though. His old grieving eyes looked a little too bright for my liking and, like I had said to Berkley earlier, there was definitely more to this case than a simple suicide.

The table at which we sat was a small oak one, a little like the one I had at home but more expensive, and it matched the entire décor of the place. This place was like a set out movie set, something that was a mix between an old gangster movie and a modern bank heist. The sprawling ceilings that led your eyes all the way to the top of the huge windows were a little disorientating at first, but after you got used to it the inverse vertigo wore off. Everything screamed grandeur, from the solid mahogany doors to the pure gold banister bollards to the little oak table I really felt like putting my feet up onto.

"Well at least you've brought yourself into the situation," I said to boost him a little, "you have a footing, that's the least you can hope for at this stage."

"I know, you're right Dee Dee," he said back, looking intently at something above my right shoulder as he spoke, "but it doesn't stop it being annoying as hell."

"Yeah," I laughed back weakly, "I know."

Something was wrong. I've known Berkley since we were both kids and I know when something is up with him. I also knew that it wasn't to do with the death of his uncle, that would have been a different sort of behaviour than that which he was showing to me now. Heck, I don't mean to sound like some sort of Berkley obsessed shrink but I do claim to be able to read his ins and outs with little error. It's all down to subtlety with Berk you see, little things like the clenching and unclenching of a hand when he's angry, or the ten million different types of stare he can give you that all mean different things. Even the way he sits and the way he moves and gestures are all intricate signs to his mood. I know what your thinking, that's the same with everyone right? Well yes, I agree, but then with most "normal" people they have other more obvious signs as well. Berkley is only subtle, it's the main offset of the extremity of his rage when he finally looses it; I'm telling you, you don't want to be there. I've only seen him loose it once and it was not pretty, but heck that's another story and I'm off track. Focusing on the present is hard around Berkley, just because there's so much in our past I guess. There's always something to draw me back to days long gone.

"What are you thinking?" that voice brought me back, even though it was the one that haunted my memories.

"Nothing important," I said back with a small smile, thinking quickly to divert my mind from morbid things, "just wondering how on earth you're going to bring Ryo in on this case with you without arousing suspicion."

"Really Diana," he smirked back, taking the bait and suddenly seeming to me much more like his old self, "why ever would you think I would use such a dirty tactic like that?"  
"Really Berk, don't try and play me, I know the way you tick," I said wagging a scalding finger and grinning, "Ryo's told me all about your dirty tactics. I think you need to polish them up though, if you're going to get anywhere."

"No, I don't think I'll be pursuing that road any more Dee Dee," Berkley shook his head and smiled, "looks more like a dead end to me."  
"Yeah a dead end with "Dee was here" written on it in big black letters," I said with a laugh, "I think you're right to abandon it."

"Yeah, I thought you would be," he said back, again averting his eyes.

I let that comment pass, not entirely sure what he meant. Berkley never really knew about my not so secret helping of Ryo figure himself out and saving his relationship with Dee. I will be the first to say that Dee is the most annoying man I know, he can riel me up in a second flat, but he deserves all the good things in life. He's had a hard time of it, and if Ryo is what he needs to make his life complete then he should be welcome to that release. I know that it's exactly the same for Ryo too, and I'm glad they worked it out. I know that Berkley showed an interest in Ryo but then it was an odd sort of fanciful, fleeting romance; if you can even call it romance. I always felt that his interest in Ryo was an almost calculating one, he seemed too blasé about the brunettes feelings, about how Ryo really felt. I mean heck, I know Dee was the same to an extent, but he, well…he loves Ryo. Berkley never loved him, he saw him as a project, something interesting, he wanted to see how he ticked, and the physical attraction was only half of his want to…posses him. I feel a little guilty in being glad that Berkley didn't steal Ryo from Dee, but that's for a lot of reasons I guess.

"I guess that there's no reason to be hanging around then," Berkley finally sighed, pushing up out of his chair "we've bee here long enough already."

"Yeah you're right," I said back, "I'd better get back to the bureau and write up the preliminary. Do you want me to call you later, in case I find anything I mean?"

"Sure," he said back, his eyes shielded by his thin rimmed glasses, "if you find anything."

I nodded with strained smile, glad that I was in a public place so that I could let my dignity keep my sudden anger in tact. I mean, what the hell sort of answer was that? I meant it in the nicest way, more an offering of comfort than a backup on the case. Trust Berkley to misread all the signs! How much more subtle did the man want me to be? Hell, it was after ten but it was still too early in the morning for this crap. I needed my bed, seriously, and considering I wasn't going to get it I guessed that another coffee would just have to be a good substitute. Berkley was already walking towards to the door as I yawned after him, hitching my skirt down as I stood to catch up with him.

"Today's the big day," he smirked as we walked out of the ultra shinny glass doors and were greeted by the blazing sunshine, "and I'm already late. Hope no one's too unsettled."

"Yeah, or too confused," I shook my head and frowned, "I mean really, was it necessary not to tell Dee?"

"I didn't not tell him, "Berkley countered, "he just happened to miss the bulletin. Anyway, no one knows, I thought it would be better that way. I didn't want them to get their grudges or praises ready for their new Chief, I want it to be a neutral introduction."

"Mh hmm," I said with a look that said he couldn't fool me, "whatever you say Berk. I just wonder if you'll be able to take the distraction from yourself, he's a bit of a hotshot from what I've heard, and that's over and above the local gossip."

"I think I can handle him Diana, thanks," he said back, looking off towards the sun, his glasses flashing and hiding his eyes, "there's no one I can't."

AN: Well, I don't know if I'm entirely happy with this. I wrote the first chapter in relative ease, it seemed to flow, but I don't know if this is being too confusing. Err, right well, I don't know whether or not to bring the story forwards a little quicker or to leave it at this pace. But anyway! This was going to be Beta read but I got a little impatient, he he, so please excuse any mistakes! As always please R&R.


	3. How Many Unwanted Guests does it Take?

**Chapter 3**

**How Many Unwelcome Guests does it Take to Solve a Murder?**

"And you didn't think that maybe you could have told me when I obviously didn't know what the fuck was going on!?"

Dee and I fight on a regular basis, which probably comes as no surprise to anyone who knows Dee Laytner, but usually these fights don't last long and end in apologies and calm resolutions (courtesy of yours truly). This fight, however, was reaching over the one hour mark and was still in full swing. We had finally gotten away from work at six thirty and driven home together. The introduction of our new chief Kay Braithwaite (it still seemed so odd to refer to him as that) did not go over well at all. Least of all with Dee, who had no idea who the guy was or the story surrounding him. Having it broken to him in front of the entire twenty seventh precinct didn't go over too well, and now Dee was in full on rant-mode. I sighed, trying to mask my slowly building irritation at Dee's refusal to see sense. I was very glad that Bikky had decided to stay at Carol's tonight, I didn't want him hearing us like this.

"Dee, I didn't have time to tell you anything!" I said impatiently, "And anyway, I thought you knew. Haven't you been reading the papers for the past couple of days?"  
"Actually no, I haven't," Dee spat out, pacing over to the window to pull the curtains to then storming back to stand beside the couch where I sat, "because they haven't been delivered for the last couple of days and I've been working full fucking shifts, I haven't had the time to read the news!"  
"Will you stop swearing at me! It's not my fault!" I finally snapped.  
"Yeah, well maybe, but you didn't help the situation," Dee muttered, running a hand through his hair, the other glued to his hip, "dammit Ryo, I don't even know what to think about this! Our new chief? That kid? He shot his fucking partner Ryo!"

How many times were we going to have to go over this? I thought wearily.

"Dee, I know he did, but that's not the whole story and you know it," I said sternly.  
"Oh, yeah, so his partner, a cop twenty five years on the force, with more medals of commendation than I've had hot dinners, was taking money from drug dealers and turned his gun on an innocent civilian in the middle of a raid!? That's bullshit!" Dee shouted, balling his fists, "From what you've told me there was no conclusive evidence at the scene to back op this kid Braithwaite's story. He could have misfired, he could have killed his partner by accident, and now he's trying to cover it up!"  
"Dee, you sound just like Ted! I can't believe you, why are you going along with this idiotic idea of a conspiracy theory?" I folded my arms and glared at him, "And no I did not say there was no conclusive evidence at the scene. What I said was there was conflicting evidence at the scene which called for further analysis. However, the C.S.I's validated Kay Braithwaite's story and that it the only reason he was allowed to return to duty."  
"Yeah, and be promoted to fucking chief! He's twenty five years old!" Dee yelled, grabbing the back of the arm chair across from me and leaning over it.  
"And from what I've seen of his file, he deserves it," I scowled, looking away from Dee as he scoffed and began pacing the room, "he's a good cop, Dee. I know you don't believe me but I can just feel it, okay? His record is exemplary and his IQ is through the roof, he seems like the last person who would shoot his partner in cold blood."  
"Everyone makes mistakes Ryo," Dee said coldly, "he didn't have to mean it. But if it was a mistake then that doesn't give him the right to drag Leon Hardy's name through the dirt just to save his own ass. Hardy was a good cop too, Ryo, a damn good cop."

I closed my eyes and counted to ten. Yes, this is what I have been reduced to. Now, earlier on in our argument I had resolutely decided that if Dee wanted to finish this argument he could damn well apologise to me first. Now, however, I realised that wasn't going to happen and, if it went on any longer, I'd probably snap and punch his lights out. So I swallowed my pride (believe me, it didn't go down easy) and stood up, walking over to Dee. He was facing away from me, his shoulders tense, and suddenly the reality of the situation began to creep back up on me. I'd been studiously ignoring it while Dee had been ranting on. I stepped up behind him and slid my hands around his waist, pressing my face into crook of his shoulder. He relaxed, all the tension melting away as he leaned back into my embrace.

"Shit," he said quietly, shaking his head slightly.  
"Look Dee I'm..." I started.  
"No! No," he interrupted, surprising me as he turned around to face me, "I'm sorry, really, I...I just feel a little mixed up right now."  
"I know," I nodded, glad that he was finally calming down, "things have been a little crazy around here lately, but we can deal with it, okay?"  
"Yeah," Dee said with a fond smile, "I know. I am sorry, okay? As long as you're here with me, I can deal."

I smiled and shoved him playfully in the shoulder. He knew how to flatter me, the slick bastard that he was.

"That better not have been sarcasm, Laytner," I said as he pulled me tight against his chest.  
"I'd never joke about that," Dee said softly, leaning in to kiss me.

This is why I like Dee's apologies. The kiss ended and we stood for a few moments, holding each other. Ever since the chief left things have been slowly going downhill at work and this new introduction wouldn't make things any easier.

But I could deal with it, I thought as I felt Dee kiss my neck softly.

"You hungry?" I murmured.  
"Yeah," he sighed, pulling back a little to look at me, "take out?"  
"Take out," I nodded.

* * *

When I finally arrived home I dropped my coat onto the floor and didn't pick it up. That was a measure of the extent of my exhaustion. Everything else in the flat was meticulously neat, anally so (as Diana liked to point out), but right now I really couldn't give a rats ass. So I continued to strip and drop: first the shoes were toed off, then the tie was pulled into a knot and lifted over my head, shirt, trousers dropped and kicked off, underwear. The bed was wonderfully cool, soft and clean. For once I was glad I earned a pay check that allowed me the luxury of a maid service.

What a day. I looked lazily at my bedside clock and blinked, shifting as my glasses pressed against my face. Eight twenty two. I'd been up for almost fifteen and a half hours, and ninety percent of that time had been spent at work, and work had been absolute, torturous, fire and brimstone hell. I removed my glasses and threw them onto the side table.

What had happened? Let's just say that the new Chief's reception was just as mixed as I had expected it to be. However, despite being ready for this eventuality, I didn't anticipate just how badly this would affect the officers that opposed the choice. After the extremely awkward introduction I had retreated to my office to work on discretely obtaining information on the Halloren and Grawley case. Ten minutes later Ted walked into my office and handed in his resignation. I spent the better part of forty minutes arguing with him about how rash and irresponsible his choice was and why he should reconsider. In the end Ted won out and all I could do was sit and stare at the hastily typed letter left on my immaculate desk. It went downhill from there. Lara from Traffic and George and Bill from the Major Crimes Unit also handed in their resignations. Lara had not long had a kid and George and Bill had been with the force for twenty two years. I couldn't comprehend their extreme reaction. I mean, I knew the story behind Kay Braithwaite's promotion and transfer and, while I could understand there were some who saw his actions as unforgivable, I thought they would be more mature than this.

Oh, yeah. Then there was Kay Braithwaite. Yeah. That was a whole other barrel of fish. I managed to summon the energy to smile. Perhaps the day hadn't been _total_ hell. I had been sincere when I'd told Diana that I no longer had any intention of pursuing Ryo, but even if I'd still had intentions they would have been speedily discarded once I'd caught a glimpse of Kay Braithwaite. The grainy, black and white photographs in the paper didn't do him justice at all. From his vivid dark red hair to his creamy complexion to his sharp suit, I was completely and utterly sold. So I'm shameless, deal with it. It was a pity he didn't have as sunny a personality as Ryo, but it was understandable under the circumstances that he would be a bit standoffish. Even if half the team up and left the unit at least I'd have something pretty to look at, that's what I'd had thought earlier on when I'd been sitting in my office, bitter and frustrated. Now, well, I was still bitter, too tired to be frustrated, but I felt that perhaps it wasn't so bad that we'd been assigned the problem child of the New York City police force.

I slowly shuffled under the duvet and sighed contentedly as the sheet began to warm up. Just as I was nodding off to sleep, the phone rang abrasively. I groaned, more of a whimper, and tried to ignore it. However as soon as it cut to answering machine the line went dead and the person simply called straight back. After two repeats of the same thing I realised that whoever it was wasn't going to give up. I contemplated yanking the phone cord out of the wall but managed to resist. Instead I growled and grabbed the phone from its stand, barking down the line with as much force as I could manage.

"Berkley here," my voice was slightly hoarse; I cleared my throat.  
"Berk, thank god I got you at home," it was Diana and, even though I would usually chew her out for disturbing me, her tone stopped me; she sounded shaken.  
"Diana," I said slowly, "what's wrong?"  
"Berkley, I just had a call," she said.  
"From who? What about?" I prompted impatiently.  
"Well, it's just...look I can't really talk about this over the phone, can I meet you somewhere? How about Sally's?"

That grabbed my attention. Diana was no stranger, she was welcome in my house even if I never really invited her over. That never stopped her making any excuse to come and visit. Now she was suggesting a rendezvous point at a local bar? Sometimes I forgot that Diana was FBI and was, therefore, privileged to far more classified information than I could ever hope to be. This must be something important, I thought worriedly.

"Sure," I said sleepily, "I'll, uh, well, give me half an hour okay?"  
"Okay," she said softly, adding after moment's hesitation, "were you asleep?"  
"No, I wasn't asleep," I assured her, "I'll see you at...nine oh five."  
"Okay," Diana said with a sigh, "see you then."

Sally's was only a ten minute drive but I needed ample time to actually wake up and make myself look reasonable before going out. I arrived a couple of minutes before nine and walked into the pub, hands in my pockets. The room smelled of smoke and fried chicken, making me slightly nauseous. I ordered a jack and coke from the tall, slender, polite bartender and selected booth with a good view of the entrance and the fire exit. You could never be too careful when dealing with risky information, might as well try and be as safe as possible.

Diana turned up a few minutes later, waved to me a little stiffly and then ordered herself a large glass of red wine before joining me. I had thought I'd looked rough when I'd left the office earlier on, but I didn't have a patch on Diana. Her hair was loose and she'd thrown on a pair of black slacks and a black t-shirt under a brown suede jacket. No make up. No frills.

"What the hell happened to you?" I had meant to sound sympathetic but I was too confused by the sight to act it.  
"Shut up and drink that," she said seriously, motioning to my drink before taking a large gulp of her wine.

I frowned, ready to protest but thought better of it. My stomach twisted in protested as the alcohol hit my empty stomach. All I'd managed today was a coffee and half of a sandwich (generously donated by a concerned Ryo) and now I was really wishing that I'd made myself some dinner.

"Mind telling me what this is all about?" I kept my voice low as Diana downed the last of her glass and then licked her lips, rolling the stem between her fingers.  
"Berkley this Halloren Grawley case it..." she stopped, flashing her eyes across the patrons in the bar suspiciously before looking back to me, "it's more complicated than I first thought."  
"What do you mean by that?" the door opened with a jingle and Diana started as two men and a woman entered, smiling and talking before proceeding to the bar; Diana relaxed, breathing deeply before continuing.  
"When I got home, at about seven thirty, I checked my phone and I had one missed call from a number I didn't recognise at all. Now, Berk, you know what I'm like with numbers I don't know, I never answer them and I don't call them back. Too many scams and all that. Well...I don't know, it'd been a tough day at the office and I was tired and fed up and as I was making dinner it rang again and I picked it up just to make it stop ringing and..."

My blood ran simultaneously cold and hot with fear and anger. I stared at her.

"Is someone threatening you?" I asked seriously in a low tone.  
"No," she said with a pained smile, "No, Berk, it's not that. It's something else and...I shouldn't even be telling you this."

She stopped, putting both her hands over her face and rubbing at the skin roughly. She pulled her hair away from her face and stared at me oddly. I swallowed.

"You remember, two years or so ago, that outbreak of murders that started in Japan?" she asked.  
"What?" I asked, thrown by the question; I wracked my memory and quickly recalled the incident, "Yeah, I remember. Kira I think it was called. They never caught him."  
"Right," Diana said, "they never caught him. And you remember the detective who worked that case?"  
"Now that I have no trouble remembering," I said with a small smirk, "how could anyone forget the omnipotent L? Why are you asking me all this?"  
"Because he's the one who called me."

I was sure that my jaw wasn't supposed to be hanging open the way it was and quickly snapped it shut. Perhaps, I thought, that was why Diana had asked me to finish my drink before she told me her news. Not so it would soften the blow, but so I wouldn't spray it all over her when I spat it out in surprise. She can't be serious, I thought, watching her speculatively.

"Right," I said, sitting up straight and trying not to sound too sarcastic despite the fact that I was tired, hungry and had been dragged out to a bar to obviously be wound up, "L, the world's greatest detective, just called you on your mobile. Did he ask you what you wanted for Christmas?"

Diana, surprisingly, didn't give in and surrender to the fact that she'd been winding me up. Neither did she blow up at me for not believing her. I blinked and watched her as she placed the empty wine glass down and looked me straight in the eyes.

"I knew you wouldn't believe me," she said resignedly, "which is why I brought this."

I watched as she produced a mobile phone from her pocket.

"I have my voicemail rigged so that it records all my calls. Helpful in case I get any threats or leads that I want saved for later," Diana said as she cycled through her number s and then rang her voicemail, "Right now, I'm just glad that Steve in tracking is an electronic wizard and set it up for me or I would have no proof whatsoever that I'm not going crazy."

She handed me the phone and, despite my suspicions, I felt surge of unease. I lifted the phone to my ear. A polite female voice informed me that I was about to be listening to a voicemail message received today at seven forty three pm. There was a beep and then Diana's voice welcomed me into the call. The small, practically empty bar suddenly seemed the stage for some surreal play.

'_Diana Spacey.'  
'Is this Diana Spacey of the FBI, 704 Broadway, New York?'_

My eyes narrowed at the artificially distorted voice. Dianna stalled before answering.

_'...Who is this?'  
'Please answer the question, Miss Spacey.'  
'I make it my business not to give out any personal details to strangers who ring me on my personal mobile phone. I'm hanging up n...'  
'I wouldn't do that, if I were you.'  
'Is that right. Huh, well...enlighten me then.'  
'I believe you once worked with Raye Penber and Naomi Misoura They spoke very highly of you.'  
'...What is this about? Is this some sort of threat, because believe me buddy I can trace this call.'  
'No, you can't.'  
'What do you mean no I can't? Who the hell is this?'  
'Please, it is not my intention to threaten you. I have valuable information on a case you are currently involved in. I cannot contact the FBI directly and, as a last resort, I thought I would test the recommendation of two old colleagues.'  
'Raye and Naomi are dead. Why should I believe for one second that you ever even knew them?'  
'I can offer you no proof at this given moment, Miss Spacey. However, I will shortly be arriving in New York and would greatly appreciate your cooperation. Off the record, of course.'  
'This is some sort of joke. Who put you up to this, huh? Because it's not funny!'  
'I am most definitely serious, Miss Spacey. I cannot give you my name, for reasons that will become clear to you, but you may recognise my alias.'  
'Oh yeah? And what would that be?'  
'L.'_

The conversation became a little complicated after that. Lots of talking over each other, Diana becoming very angry, as she had a right to be, and threatening multiple times to hang up. She would have done it too, until the voice which claimed to be L started listing details from every personal file Diana had ever appeared on, from her kindergarten to her current, highly classified FBI profile. Information no one could possibly know unless they actually had access to it, they would have to be some sort of computer genius to hack it all. This didn't entirely convince Diana of the voice's identity but it most certainly got her attention, as did its final statement.

'_I have reason to believe that the murders, five in all in the New York area, are, as your superiors refuse to see, linked. I believe that these killings are being caused by a phenomenon which the FBI themselves refuse to believe exists. I believe that these are Kira killings. I will arrive in New York in three days time along with my associates. I will contact you then. Please, tell no one of this conversation.'_

Well, rule number one broken there then, I thought wryly as I handed Diana back the phone. She was looking at me as if waiting for confirmation, as if she didn't really believe the phone call was real herself. I nodded a little, shaken by the fact that there was a real possibility that this was actually a phone call from the great L and that he believed that the infamous Kira was possibly rising again. Of course, when L had failed to catch Kira his theories and incessant obsession with the case had turned Kira back into a myth. The public believed that Kira couldn't possibly have been human, as what human could possibly have orchestrated all of those bizarre killings over such a long period of time and then disappear without a trace? Major governments had announced statements saying that they believed Kira had been a terrorist organisation, co-ordinating their killing sprees throughout the world and that, should they ever be found, they would be brought to justice. The FBI, after losing their own agent's to Kira, had taken a different stance. They believed Kira was real but they blamed L for their agent's deaths. That's what Diana had told me two years ago. The killings had been concentrated in Japan until Kira's disappearance and hadn't really affected America. I had no direct involvement with the short investigation that had taken place which claimed the lives of twelve FBI agents.

Including Raye Penber, and his fiancé, ex-FBI agent Naomi Misoura, Diana's best friend for four years. Killed herself, if I remembered rightly, after Kira claimed Raye Penber's life.

"Well? Hey, Berkley?" Diana pulled me back to reality, "C'mon, stay with me here. I need a verdict."

I removed my glasses and rubbed the bridge of my nose. This was...way over my head. What on earth was Diana asking me about this for? Surely she should take this to her superiors and ask them for advice...wait.

"You think he's genuine?" I asked with disbelief.  
"I'm...I'm not sure," Diana shook her head, "He knew things about me, about Naomi and Raye, things she said to me that no one could have known Berk, no one. Except if she'd told them herself."  
"Then maybe she did," I said, angrily, "maybe under duress before she was murdered and it was played off as a suicide. You never believed she would kill herself in the first place! What if this is a trap? Diana, you can't get suckered in by this..!"  
"I'm not getting 'suckered' by anyone as you so eloquently put it," she said dangerously, "and, despite my reservations, am willing to give this L the benefit of the doubt. What I want to know is, will you come with me if he asks to meet or anything? Or if he calls, can I talk to you about it? I need someone Berk, this is important and I need you."_  
_

AN: Well, been a long time since I updated this story since I thought about making it crossover with Death Note. Hope this is still working (L and Light will be in next chapter, yay!) I love writing L.

Thanks to Jessus48 for the favourite and the story alert, you made me update this story! Hope you like the update.


	4. Recapturing Fate

**Author note:**

This story is written from the premise that Kira (aka Raito/Light Yagami) was never caught as he did not get a chance to touch the Death Note after giving up his memories. Therefore Light has no memories of being Kira and has, since then, followed his father's footsteps into the NPA (yes I knew that scenario has been done one trillion times before but it fits my purposes). The notebook mentioned in this chapter is Misa's.

**Chapter 4**

**Recapturing Fate**

The nightmare was forgotten as soon as I jolted awake. I lay there dazedly, staring at the ceiling, wiping the sweat from my brow. It wasn't surprising to me that the dreams had resurfaced, only annoying. This made me, in turn, feel slightly sick with guilt. I turned to the alarm clock, glowing red in the darkness. Five forty five. Shit.

I wouldn't be able to get back to sleep, that much I knew. I lay there, still and silent, playing over the fading images from my nightmare. Screaming and camera static was all I was usually left with. It should have affected me more than it did, something that always made me feel slightly uneasy. Finally the alarm startled me out of my reverie at seven thirty. I dragged myself out of bed, showered, dressed and ate breakfast, going through the motions mechanically. My mobile phone rang while I was sorting my bag, but I didn't answer, letting it forward to voicemail. I knew, or had a fair guess, who it would be and I wasn't up for being civil yet. Not yet.

It was raining heavily by the time I reached university, and my shoes were soaked. Considering my discomfort, I still managed to hate the crowds more than my wet feet, clustering in the halls, talking loudly, pushing and shoving. I stood back and quietly folded up my umbrella.

"Yagami-kun!"

I looked up to see Kiyomi Takeda emerging from the mass of students, smiling affectionately. I watched her approach, trying to summon a smile and failing. Sometimes even my infinite charm has limits.

"How are you?" she asked politely; she had always remained rather formal with me, perhaps because I was rather standoffish myself.  
"Fine, thank you," I nodded, "you?"  
"Oh I'm alright," she said, reflexively smoothing her hair back from her eyes, "it's your birthday today isn't it? Happy birthday, Yagami-kun."  
"Thank you," I said, forcing the smile.

We sat together in the lecture hall, making inane small talk. My phone rang again, and I quickly fished it out of my bag and rejected the call; not, however, before I noticed my sister's name emblazoned on the screen. It had probably been her calling this morning as well. Takeda inquired about the call, but I shrugged it off.

"It doesn't matter," I said, smiling simply to get her to drop the topic.  
"Okay...oh," she said, looking over my shoulder suddenly, "Yagami-kun, there's a man..."

I turned towards the stairs directly beside my seat. There was a man there, in university office uniform, waiting patiently. I felt an ominous chill sweep up my spine as he regarded me and felt instantly foolish for feeling that way at all.

"Yagami Raito?" he inquiry.  
"Yes," I replied, deadpan.  
"There's someone here to see you at the front desk," he said, adding when I frowned, "they said it was important that they see you right away."  
"Did they give a name?" I asked, ignoring Takeda's interested glances as she tried to pretend she wasn't listening.  
"No, but the gentleman said to tell you that he is calling on behalf of Ryuuzaki," the man said plainly.

I felt my body stiffen instinctively and forced myself to relax. I swallowed to calm myself. Not today, not _now_, he knew...he knew I had told him, I'd warned him, that I never wanted to see his face again; but then he never was one for following orders, or threats. The man waited patiently for my reply, but I found it hard to formulate one. It had been what, two years? Why was he coming to me now? Did he think I'd forgiven him? Typical of him really, I suppose I shouldn't really be surprised. I looked back to the messenger, determined to get this over with as quickly as possible.

"Could you please inform him that I am predisposed at the moment, I have a lecture," I said as politely as I could, forcing a fake smile.  
"Ah, he said that you might not be free and to give you this if you weren't," he said, handing me a blank A4 manilla envelope.

I looked at it for a moment in silence. I shouldn't open it, I thought, you know what will happen if you open it. He's going to suck you back into his games and his world and you promised yourself you'd never go back there. However I felt my fingers twitching in defiance, warring with my thoughts. My life was so routine now, so monotonous, everything I wished it wasn't. What I was holding in my hands was probably a chance to pretend my life wasn't completely worthless, even if only for a little while.

I opened it cautiously, considerate enough to realise that information from L would probably be confidential, yet if he'd entrusted it to a third party then it would more than likely make sense to me alone. I slid my hand inside and pulled out five photocopied sheets displaying newspaper articles from several newspapers, each detailing deaths in the New York area. They seemed insignificant, but for the large sprawling letter 'K' that was emblazoned onto each sheet in yellow highlighter. I felt my fingers curling into the sheets and heard Takeda ask if I was alright. I muttered a quick reply, stuffing the sheets back into the envelope. 'K' only stood for one thing in L's world: Kira.

Damn him. I thought L had dropped the case long ago! Surely he'd been ridiculed enough because of it, surely he'd lost enough in pursuit of it. _Damn_ him for trying to involve me in this all over again.

-_Be practical Raito,_- I reminded myself, quelling my emotions.

It may have been two years but I still knew L well enough to know that if I didn't go and see him now than he'd only find me later on at home. I wasn't stupid enough to think that he didn't know where I lived.

"Takeda, can I borrow your notes later on?" I asked her as I stood, gathering my things.  
"Of course," she said, looking somewhat worried, "is everything alright?"  
"Yes," I said reassuringly, "everything's fine, just a family matter."

It had become so easy to lie that it almost felt like I was telling her the truth. She watched me leave, expression tense. It was irritating but I tried not to focus on it. It wasn't as if we were going out any more, I'm not sure what attachment she felt she had to me. I followed the messenger solemnly.

I have to say that I wasn't surprised to find Watari waiting at reception, sitting calmly on a plastic chair in his full butler attire, looking entirely incongruous. He smiled kindly at me and stood as approached. I did my best to ignore it.

"Yagami-kun, it is good to see you are well," he said in flawless Japanese.  
"What do you want?" I asked rudely, ignoring the glare the messenger directed at me as he walked to his office, probably my being rude to an elder.  
"Ryuuzaki-san requests that you visit him, he has some important information that requires your attention," Watari replied politely.  
"I'm busy right now," even though I knew I would go, I still felt the need to resist.  
"Then may I pick you up after your classes are finished?" he asked, expertly weaving around my deflection.

I sighed tightly, looking away from him towards the glass frontage, watching the rain. There was no point in avoiding this. I hated Civil Law anyway, I thought ruefully. Talk about exchanging one evil for another.

"I'll need to sign out," I told him coldly.

The receptionist greeted me politely, which unfortunately quickly turned into suspicion when I told her that I needed to sign out for the rest of the day for undisclosed reasons. I don't know why I didn't just lie to her, it had been so easy with Takeda earlier. Why did Todai have to be such sticklers for attendance anyway? I thought in irritation. Thankfully Watari made himself useful, interrupting out terse conversation to politely show a card to the receptionist; I couldn't see what was printed on it but, whatever it was, she paled, laughed nervously and said that it would be no problem for me to leave. I've since decided that I'd rather not know.

Of course he'd sent the damn Rolls Royce. Nothing was too ostentatious for L. The rain soaked me in the short sprint from doorway to car and I bundled myself inside as gracefully as I could.

"I need to borrow your phone," I said once Watari had pulled away from the kerb.  
"If it is about visiting your mother," Watari said in his congenial voice, "then I have already informed her of your visit with Ryuuzaki-san."  
"I told L not to contact my family," I said sharply, glaring at him in the rear view mirror, "and you shouldn't have presumed I'd comply with his demands."  
"I took the liberty of making the call," he seemed impervious to my glare, "and it was simply a precaution."

I ignored his explanation, opting instead for staring out of the window and keeping track of where Watari was taking me. I should have known it would be somewhere expensive. The Midtown Tower, which housed the Ritz-Carlton Tokyo, was imposing even against the grey downpour. We entered through the front, thankfully escaping the rain underneath the large, covered entranceway. The lobby was pleasantly bright and luxuriant. Immaculate porters, marble floors, abstract artwork on every wall. I hadn't been near this kind of luxury since I worked with L in his purpose built headquarters. I wasn't sure why he hadn't returned there if he was back in Tokyo, but dismissed the question as soon as it arose in my mind. I reminded myself that I didn't care.

Of course he'd taken the Ritz-Carlton suite, top floor. It figures. It was also entirely typical for the room to be horribly dimly lit, offset by the familiar hum of multiple monitors and computer screens and that effervescent artificial light. The room itself was huge, bigger than my entire apartment. It was decked out with plush leather sofas, the far wall was floor to ceiling glass, although the curtains were drawn, and your feet sank into the carpet. I hated it already, I thought ruefully. Watari ushered me in, taking my bag and handing me a towel that he seemed to magically produce from nowhere. He then proceeded to abandon me in said room, standing like an idiot in the middle of the room with my towel. I sighed, rubbing half heartedly at my hair, and took a seat on one of the long couches, sinking into its plush cushions.

What was I doing here, sitting in this luxurious suite at two o'clock in the afternoon, soaked through and hating every minute of it? I pulled the towel from my hair and dumped it onto the arm of the couch in a mess. I managed to sit still for a while thirty seconds before my fingers started to twitch and I had to pick it back up and fold it neatly.

"The cleaners will deal with that Raito-kun," I spun around in my seat to see him, standing hunched at the opening to a hallway that seemed to lead deeper into the hotel room, "but it is nice to see you haven't changed."  
"Is that a polite way to say you think I'm still anally retentive, L?" I asked, hearing the hollow ring to my tone.  
"It wasn't my intention to be rude or polite," L said as he stepped silently into the room, creeping soundlessly across the carpet to take up residence in the seat across from my own, "merely to state the facts as I see them."

I watched him intently, not sure what to feel. Anger? Resentment? Self-loathing? Hell, why not all of the above. I shook my head, feeling a little lost. I wasn't the only one who hadn't changed. From his unruly hair to his rumpled, white, long sleeved t-shirt and faded jeans, L looked as odd as ever. His face, still indeterminately young, was pale and slightly drawn. I began to wonder, despite myself, exactly what he thought he had found that it was enough to being me here. As if answering my unspoken query, he produced a piece of paper from his right jeans pocket, smoothed it out on the coffee table between us, and then proceeded to stare at it. I continued to watch him.

"You really think this is Kira, don't you," I said; it wasn't a question because I already knew the answer, it was just that I suppose I still hadn't come to terms with the fact that he was this insane.  
"I am seventy four percent certain that these are Kira killings," L said matter-of-factly, "the evidence is sound, yet I am still not one hundred percent certain."  
"Which is why you sent for me," I said harshly, unable to keep the vitriol out of my voice, "even after I told you..."  
"That you never wanted to see me again?" L interrupted, his mouth quirked into an awkward half smile.  
"Yes," I said tightly, "and there's nothing to smile about, so wipe that smirk off your face. I didn't think you could misunderstand something I'd made so inescapably clear."

His smile faded appropriately, making his face once more blank and automaton like.

"But you knew I wouldn't listen to something so trivial, Raito-kun," he said staring at me owlishly.  
"Don't call me that," I said quickly, "I'm only here because I know that you wouldn't let this drop until you spoke to me, nothing more."

L looked at me oddly, an almost frown marring his usual wide eyed stare. His thumb found its way to his teeth and I actually felt a little light headed with the sensation of time becoming nothing. It was as if, suddenly, seated here, that it _was_ two years ago, and we were simply discussing the semantics of the case while Watari sorted out dinner. I shook my head, forcing myself back to the present.

"Who said anything about dropping this case" he asked genuinely.  
"You have with all the others," I said with a calculated shrug, knowing that my seeming indifference would piss him off, even if he didn't show it, "they've always turned out to be co-incidences or attempted copy-cats. Why should this be any different?"

L watched me for a few moments in silence, his teeth scraping over the flesh of his thumb. Then he reached out with his left hand and delicately pushed the crumpled sheet of paper across the table until it was within my reach. I sighed and picked it up roughly. I had to concentrate to read considering how badly creased it was and the dimmed light, but I managed to make it out. As I read I began to chew on the inside of my lip. The date...no, it's just a copy-cat Raito, someone trying to cause hysteria in the masses by falsifying Kira's return. I stopped reading.

"An organised fake," I said, carelessly tossing the paper back onto the table; L watched me with an unreadable expression, "anyone can organise dates."  
"It's not the date that caught my attention, Yagami-san," that name! I knew he was trying to be formal because I'd basically demanded that he be so, but only my father had even been called 'Yagami-san', "it's the times."  
"What about them?" I asked in irritation, "and don't call me that either."  
"Then what should I call you?" he said after a brief pause, voice soft.  
"Nothing," I said callously, "I won't be staying long enough for you to have to worry about that, and once I leave you won't be seeing me again."  
"You said that last time we spoke," L said.  
"Well I mean it this time," I affirmed my statement with a cold look, "now, what about the times?"

L reached over and picked up the paper, holding it in his usual unusual fashion, clutching it at the two top most corners with index finger and thumb as if it were covered in filth. He scanned the paper with his large, black eyes.

"December 17th: James Kidd, time of death five forty five in the morning," he began, "Sean McAllister, five forty five, Crawford Whitaker, five forty five, Derek Halloren, five forty six, Samuel Phillips, five forty six."

I wished that I'd continued to read the paper instead of dismissing it so lightly and tossing it away without finishing it. What L had just told me was slightly more disturbing information than usual. I swallowed, glancing back at L; he was watching me over the top of the paper, his gaze intent. I could feel his want for an answer, but thankfully i was saved from having to answer by Watari's polite cough from the doorway.

"Would Yagami-kun like any refreshment?" he asked L.  
"No, he wouldn't," I answered for him, taking this as an easy way out; I was determined not to look at L, keeping my eyes focused on my hands as I sorted my clothes, "I already told you, I'm not staying, no matter what half baked evidence you have to show me. I came here out of courtesy, that is all."  
"That suits me fine," L replied cryptically, pulling my confused gaze to him despite my best efforts, "I'm not staying either."  
"What?" I asked in confusion; still the same old L, I thought, trying to perplex me so I couldn't stay angry with him, playing mind games he knew he couldn't lose.  
"Well, I scheduled my jet to leave in three hours," he said, unfolding from his chair to stand stooped in front of me, "for New York."  
"You're serious, aren't you," I shook my head, "why? Because the times are so precise? I'll admit it's a very well executed copy but it won't be anything more than that L, a very well executed copy. You've chased after many of them before."  
"It's too precise," he argued, "too well executed."  
"And what if it is Kira? Or another Kira? What will you do? You didn't catch them the first time, what makes you think you can do it now?" I asked cruelly.  
"Not me," he said infuriatingly, staring straight at me, "us."

I glared at him through the gloom. He couldn't possibly be saying what I thought he was saying. Watari made a quick pre-emptive exit before the fireworks started.

"There is no 'us', L" I said dangerously, my tone low, "I won't risk any more people's lives for your egotistical crusade."  
"People will die," he said, all emotion gone from his face, "people have died. How many more is up to us."  
"Don't you dare try and place the guilt on my shoulders!" I hissed, "If you want to run all over the world chasing ghosts then be my guest, but you're not involving me or my family again!"

I shouldn't have mentioned family, L was too sharp, he picked up on my reasoning even before I realised what I'd done.

"Your father knew the risks and accepted them," he said, looking away from my stony glare, "you cannot hide behind his death forever."  
"I'm not hiding from anything!" I shouted, squaring up to him, forcing him to look at me, "And don't talk about my father."  
"You know, you aren't leaving me many things I can say to you," L said with a slight frown.  
"Then we're going in the right direction," I said with finality, striding across the room to retrieve my bag from the hanger Watari had placed it on, "don't call me, don't write, don't visit, just...just stay away from me, you understand?"

He was silent, which I found more unnerving than if he'd been trying to get me to stay. I headed towards the door, confident that I'd finally managed to make him understand that I was defiantly not part of his world any more, when he ruined it by speaking.

"Then I suggest you say goodbye to your sister now, before I pick her up on the way to the airport."

I stopped dead just before the entranceway. I felt sick that, despite my disgust, a small part of me managed to admire L's first class tactics, no matter how underhand they were. He always held all the aces and his poker face was second to none. If it had been anyone else but Sayu that he was threatening me with, I would have perhaps considered being civil. Instead, I dropped my bag, turned around and was across the room in three strides, grabbing two fistfuls of his shirt and pulling him close. It made it less satisfying that I knew he'd let me do it. Two years was a long time, but not long enough to forget our rather spectacular fights, or just how fast L's reaction time was.

"You leave my sister out of this," I said in a barely suppressed yell, "she's only sixteen year s old and I will not have her mixed up in any of your plans!"  
"If I remember rightly, that was the same age you were Raito-kun," the use of the name I'd told him not to use was simply him exercising control, the man was fucking incorrigible, "you were the same age when you volunteered to aid the Kira investigation."  
"That was completely different!" I said, fingers curling tighter into the fabric; L didn't protest the invasion of his personal space or try to extricate himself, "you're blind pursuit of Kira got my father killed, and I'll be a cold corpse six feet under before I give you the chance to do the same thing to my baby sister."

He didn't answer straight away, simply stared back at me. I'd always disliked looking into L's eyes. His large pupils and dark iris' created a sort of blank mirror. Not only did it block you from reading his emotions but also seemed to mockingly reflect your own reactions. Finally he spoke.

"Then come with her and keep her safe," L suggested calmly.  
"She isn't going at all," I spat, pushing L away from me roughly before digging in my pocket for my cell phone, "this is ludicrous."  
"I believe you are describing your own over reaction, Raito-kun," L said ponderously as slowly smoothed out his rumpled t-shirt, retaining his dignity while making me look like a fool.  
"Shut up," I said dismissively while I quick dialled Sayu's phone.

After three rings she picked up.

"Onii-chan," she said brightly, "happy birthday! You never usually return my calls so quickly..."  
"Sayu, you're not going to New York," I cut her off with finality; I waited through the silence as she assimilated the information, perhaps trying to figure out how I knew, obviously not realising that L was simply using her as bait for me.  
"You can't stop me," she said finally, her tone sober.  
"That's where you're wrong," I said coldly, "I can and I will."  
"It's her decision," L said, sitting back down in his chair.  
"You stay out of this!" I snapped.  
"Is that L-san?" Sayu said, suddenly sounding desperate, "You're with him now? Raito, you must come with us, please! He's asked you, hasn't he."

It hadn't been a question and, sometimes, I resented how clever my little sister had become once she'd stopped obsessing over boys, make-up and fashion. Not that she still didn't manage to employ all three, but she had secured entrance to Todai for next year, so I knew she'd inherited the genes. In the long run it only made me more angry at her; she should know better.

"We're both staying out of this," I was surprised at just how dangerous I sounded; I never spoke this way to Sayu, always protecting her form the less desirable side of my personality, "did you even bother to tell mother? It would push her over the edge if she knew what you were planning to do."  
"She would understand!" now she was upset, I could hear the tears in her voice, "she wishes that the person who killed father had been caught just as much as I do! And that's why I'm going, I want to help, I want..."  
"To get yourself killed?" I interrupted forcefully, "You have no concept of what you would be getting yourself into if you were mixed up in this."  
"I..." she tried to rally her defences but I but her off again before she got the chance.  
"Shut up and listen to me," I said menacingly, "you have no idea how many times I almost died during that investigation. And L isn't some kind of saint, he isn't interested in catching Kira for father's sake, he wants to catch Kira to satisfy his own ego and restore his credibility as a detective! He's a manipulative, callous and above all selfish individual who doesn't know when to stop! Do you understand now?"

There was a pause at the other end of the line, interspersed with vague sounds that could have been muffled sobs. Sayu had never really gotten over father's death; she'd only been fourteen, the wrong age to be able to accept anything and, despite being more mature, sixteen didn't seem to be shaping up to be much better. Finally she spoke, and I admit that I wasn't prepared for what she said next.

"At least he doesn't lie," she said, voice surprisingly level, "...he told me Raito, he told me _everything_."  
"He told you..?" my voice trailed off into a swallow as I slowly comprehended what she meant, the blood draining from my face, "Sayu, please, let me explain..."  
"No Raito! No more lying, no more covering up the truth because poor little Sayu can't handle it! That's what you thought wasn't it?"

I couldn't answer, mainly because the main part of my reasoning had disintegrated with every word she spoke. A flash of memory blocked out the sound of her voice altogether.

'_You don't have to do it Raito."  
"Then who will?"  
"Let me."  
"No. No, I'll do it."_

Someone had to do it. It had been such a detached act in the end, killing. Writing down the name to test the wild theory that the notebook we'd collected could actually kill. Watching the video feed as the time ticked by, feeling the bile rise in my throat when the man began to gasp, clutching his chest, crumpling to the floor in spasms. In fact, sometimes it was worrying that, after the initial shock, the experience hadn't affected me more. What kind of monster did that make me? Only I could ask that question and, other than myself, only L had known. In the end it hadn't even lead us to the killer at all.

Now it was different. Sayu knowing, _that_ was a totally different story. She was the only innocence I had left, the only unprejudiced love in my entire life. Just like father. Now L had taken both of them. She was talking, on the other end of the line, but I didn't register what she was saying.

"You're not going anywhere," I said mechanically, my voice sounding robotic, before hanging up before she could protest further.

I looked to L with accusing eyes. Why? I felt I was asking him. Why me? What am I? He wouldn't answer me, he never answered. I felt my will slacken, my life reduced down to this small room, itching with claustrophobic tension.

"Will you promise me that you'll keep her away, that you'll leave her and my mother out of this?" I asked tonelessly, "If you do then I'll come with you."  
"To help with the investigation?" L added, as if bargaining or making sure I didn't take advantage of any loopholes in my promise.

I nodded slowly, resignedly, closing my eyes and opening them slowly. He was still watching me with his dark, emotionless eyes. I sat back onto the couch, drained, frustrated, furious.

"You shouldn't have told her," I said to him, "I thought you said you'd never tell anyone."  
"I need your help Raito-kun," L said simply, as if it were all very obvious, "and I'm not above blackmail to get what I want. I've told you before that it's not only about justice. Everything you told your sister about me is true; I am selfish, most out of all of them. I want your help."  
"Why is it so important?" I asked, genuinely curious, and also just trying to fill the silence that I suddenly didn't want to hear.  
"According to my calculations, this case will have a much higher chance of being successfully solved with your added expertise," L shrugged, "you are probably the most intelligent person I have ever met and your added knowledge about the Kira case is a bonus. Do you require further flattery or is that enough?"  
"No, that's fine," I said caustically, feeling suddenly drowsy, the comfortable couch and hum of machinery weren't helping, "what about my course? The university?"  
"I'll explain it to them," L said as he stood up to walk over to one of his many laptops.  
"And what about me? I'm just supposed to miss months of work?"  
"I doubt it will hinder you that much, Raito-kun," L said dismissively, "You're bright enough to catch up easily."

God I hated him. What was I doing? I wouldn't be able to stand it, I would end up killing him before the week was out. Go to New York in search of a killer who may or may not be there, and who may or may not have killed my father? This was ridiculous, it was ludicrous, and I shouldn't even be considering it. If it weren't for Sayu and, god help me, the guilt and the anger and everything else I tried to deny in my life, I wouldn't even be sitting here anymore. Some bitter little part of my mind even went as far as to remind me that at least I'd be doing something useful instead of fading away here, turning up for university every morning without fail and wasting away my days in self inflicted isolation. God I was pathetic. I was falling asleep before I realised that I'd almost missed something, that he'd almost tricked me again.

"You didn't promise," I murmured, listening to him tapping on the laptop keys.  
"What's that Raito-kun?" L said, his voice once more congenial, or as congenial as L's voice ever got.  
"You didn't promise to leave my family out of this," I said more firmly, watching him out the corner of an almost closed eye, "those are my terms."  
"Very well," he said, smiling slightly as he watched me fall asleep, "I promise."

* * *

**An:** Wow that was a big chapter! Phew, okay, let me know what you think. I love writing L and Raito, but I'm never sure if it's any good! Reviews are very welcome.

Maiko


	5. Work as UnUsual

**Chapter 5**

**Work as (Un)usual**

It was the daylight which woke me, surprising considering it usually had little to no effect on waking me up normally. I was warm and comfortable, even though I felt I shouldn't be. Someone had, at some point during the flight, placed a blanket over me; it rubbed soft against my chin as I blinked and oriented myself, looking around L's private jet blearily. L and Watari's seats were empty and there was only a lone steward emptying the overhead storage and carrying the luggage to the stairs. The far off sounds of an airport running its daily routine filtered in through the open door, the hiss of planes taking off and landing, the faint sound of thousands of voices talking in unison, the echoing murmur of the tannoy announcements. I pulled myself up in my seat and looked out of the window, rubbing at my face to wake it up. A grey, uniform hanger, a black limousine, engineers and airport staff wandering back and forth, a grey sky and traces of snow. I sighed, wondering for the millionth time since yesterday evening, why exactly I was here.

"It's nice of you to join us Raito-kun," L said in muffled monotone as I walked to the top of the stairs.

He was standing next to the limousine, wrapped up in a heavy fleece lined jacket and thick scarf which covered his mouth and nose. His unruly hair was covered by a woollen hat and he was wearing sunglasses, despite the lack of sun.

"Not suspicious at all Ryuuzaki," I shook my head as I descended the stairs, pulling on my heavy winter coat and trying not to shiver as the crisp winter air slid against my cheeks abrasively, "your disguises never fail to impress me with their sheer ingenuity."  
"Thank you," he said, the slight hint of a teasing sarcasm underlying his tone.

I sighed, watching my breath condense in the air before my eyes. The reality of the situation was starting to sink in and I began to feel slightly sick. I was falling back into it so easily, this effortless routine with him. Why? Was it simply easier to forget everything that he had put me through than to face up to the reality that he had once again managed to overcome my will and exert control over my life? No, that didn't sit quite right, not anymore; those thoughts had already run their course and I had managed, quite surprisingly, to have come to terms with the futility of hating Ryuuzaki for my own decisions. That wasn't the way to get me through this and it wasn't what was bothering me. What _was_ bothering me was my ability to deal with him, our almost amiable repartee, it was just as it had been when we were working together, as if nothing had happened in between. I couldn't even relate to my ex-girlfriend and yet, when the man I had decided I loathed most in this world thrust himself back into my life, I was able to, no _happy_ to talk to him. It was so easy and yet challenging simultaneously, interacting with L, it was like waking up from the dream of monochrome life back into the colourful world.

And I couldn't help but hate him for it, while I silently thanked him for saving me.

"Iie," I said on reflex, before correcting myself back into English, "don't worry about it."  
"We're about to depart gentleman," Watari said congenially as he walked towards us, having been engaged on his mobile phone, and indicated to the limo, "please."

The ride was smooth and tense. We said nothing and yet everything with our silence. This wasn't going to be easy for either of us, perhaps because of our differences or maybe the similarities. It was the similarities that caused the friction before, the similarities that I refused to see, instead labelling them as differences. We were too alike to work as partners and yet somehow we complemented each other enough to work as something close to friends. When the latter element had been removed there was nothing left to stop us from self destructing. What would be the mortar that held us together this time, I wondered? Our animosity?

The Carlyle, just of Madison and 5th, was a towering gothic building which managed to dwarf the buildings surrounding it while seeming strangely incongruous. The limo parked at the main door and two smartly dressed porters arrived as if by teleportation to take our bags and lead us to the lobby like pampered children. The word stylish didn't even really cover the lobby which we entered, trailing a line of porters who carried L's extensive baggage. It was if the place had been dipped in black marble and then garnished with cream and gold leaf. I felt scruffy in comparison to the clientele who sat elegantly in the plush armchairs in the waiting area, reading expensive magazines and drinking expensive coffee. Yet Ryuuzaki seemed even more out of place in the grand lobby of this ridiculously expensive hotel, his disguise making him look more like a tramp than a customer. Thankfully Watari dealt with the concierge and acquired our room key, and the porters were either too polite or well trained to say anything to a customer who could afford the Empire Suite. Either that or living in New York city had made them immune to the eccentricity of rich customers.

"Why do we always have to stay on the top floor?" I mumbled to myself, even though I knew he would reply.  
"I like the view," he murmured through his scarf.  
"Take off those sunglasses will you?" I said without even looking at him, closing my eyes and leaning my head against the soft carpeted wall of the elevator, "You look ridiculous. And what if the place catches fire and we can't use the elevator? Going to run down the forty flights of stairs or however many it is, to the bottom? I would have thought you were more safety conscious than that."  
"It has thirty seven floors Raito-kun, and we are only on the twenty eighth and twenty ninth floors so I don't see what you are complaining about," he shrugged, shifting his feet uncomfortably in his dirty sneakers.  
"I'd just rather not die because you like the view," I said, marvelling at how trivial our conversation was; when was the last time I had talked to someone just for the sake of talking?  
"Raito-kun is being melodramatic," Ryuuzaki said, looking at me through his sunglasses.  
"And Ryuuzaki-san is talking about people in the third person again," I said tersely.

The feeling of camaraderie that had built up as the lift rose quickly diminished as he used that familiar tactic which, two years ago, I could never help but find endearing for some unknown reason. Now it just irritated me, it burst the bubble of the illusion that I had slowly been building up to protect myself, the illusion that we liked each other enough to stand being in each other company without it degenerating into a fist fight.

Which I'm sure it would at some point in the near future. God help whoever Ryuuzaki brings in to help us on this case.

* * *

Diana woke me up that morning, forced me into the shower, had my breakfast out on the table when I came out. It seems nice on the outside, but it really just pissed me off more than I already was. This day was going to be hell.

"You promised you would come with me," she said, rolling her eyes as she sat across from me, head leaning against her hand.  
"I am coming with you," I said tightly, spacing each word out for effect, or perhaps just to calm myself down, "I already told you I would and I am. I just wish you wouldn't plan my morning and practically give me time limits for each part of my day. We will not be late, okay?"

She just sighed through her nose and poured herself some orange juice. The morning light was harsh against my nerves, which were still a little jumpy from Diana's revelation and having little food and sleep yesterday. I rubbed at the bridge of my nose and drank my coffee, feeling my wet skin drying against my dressing gown. Diana managed to actually be patient, which was a miracle, while I dried my hair and dressed. She didn't even comment on my tie, which was doubly unusual.

"Where is it we're going then?" I asked as I slipped on my jacket and then reached for my heavy trench coat.  
"The text said to come to the Carlyle," Diana said, standing agitatedly near the door, "someone's going to meet me in the lobby."  
"And what exactly is it you want me to do?" I asked, hating our lack of planning simply because it left far too many holes in our defences, "I'm hardly going to be allowed to come with you."  
"I don't know, just...look out for danger, make sure this isn't some sort of trap, get us out of there if things go wrong," she said, her words tumbling out too fast; she realised it too, her nervousness, and closed her eyes for a few moments for composure, "come on Berk, just do your usual, okay?"

It was rather surreal, the cab ride to the Carlyle. Diana had actually received a summons from L, despite my rationalisation that the phone call had either been a hoax or that it would never come to an actual meeting. Diana was nervous, that much was clear, but I was surely worse off than her. What if this was a trap, what if Diana got hurt, all because we were keeping this quiet and playing by the rules of someone we'd never met? I could only go with her so far, and I wasn't sure if I'd be able to protect her if things went wrong and I was stuck in the lobby like a fool. The rand gothic Carlyle loomed above us far too quickly for my liking, gleaming in the sunlight. I was just glad that I'd managed to secure the morning off from work, well a couple of hours at least, and hoped that nothing too bad happened in my absence. I couldn't help but feel that leaving the new captain on his own after yesterday's theatrics was such a good idea, but I had little choice in the matter. I paid the cab and Diana got out first, heading in through the large, gold rimmed rotating doors. I followed after one minute, hoping that she hadn't already met her contact.

"How the hell do I get myself into these messes?" I murmured to myself as I pushed through the doors and into the lobby.

There weren't many people about this early in the morning, a few early risers making their way to breakfast, and porters running their daily chores. Diana was already talking to an old man, his white hair combed back, face sporting an amiable smile, dressed immaculately in a black suit. I watched them surreptitiously as I walked towards the waiting area and took a seat, picking up a magazine and using it as cover as I continued to observe them. Now they were walking towards the elevator; damn this was moving too fast, I was going to lose her...

I admit that I panicked, when I saw them headed towards those gold coloured elevator doors, Diana's stiff walk belaying her fear. That was why I stood up, as they disappeared into the elevator and the doors shut behind them, and walked as quickly as I could over to the other elevator. I waited for them to stop on their floor, jumped into my elevator and keyed in the twenty eighth floor. I felt sick as the doors closed and began to rise. What the fucking hell was I doing!? The plan, as loose as it had been, was to stay in the lobby and then go for help if Diana hadn't come back within the allotted time, not chasing after her like James Bond. Jesus I could be an idiot sometimes.

"Still time to back out of making a hideous mistake," I said to myself as I bounced on the balls of my feet and looked at myself in the mirrored walls of the elevator.

Like hell there was. Although I have to admit that I wasn't expecting what greeted me as the doors opened on the twenty eighth floor.

"Mr Rose, I presume."

He was about my height, young but I couldn't guess at how old, definite accent, Asian but with odd colouring, auburn hair and caramel eyes, pretty face set into a forbidding countenance. Was this L? I thought as I panicked. I blinked at him, not sure exactly what to say. Had I blown it already? Was I a dead man? Was Diana going to kill me for this? Of the last question at least I knew the answer; she would kill me.

"Yes," I replied stupidly.  
"It wasn't a question," he said before turning and walking towards a large mahogany doorway, "follow me."

I hesitated for a moment, but then cautiously followed. The door led into a wide hallway, my feet sinking into the carpet as I walked across the floor after the young man. The sunlight streamed in through the large windows, illuminating a spacious and glamorous living room, replete with antique vases, what looked like original works of art hanging on the walls and even a grand piano. I am way out of my fucking depth, was all I could think, while I painted on my game face and tried _not_ to look out of my depth. Diana was there, sitting in a large armchair with a steaming cup of tea in her hands, looking both contrite and angry at the same time. Across from her, sitting bizarrely, huddled up while balancing on his feet, was another unknown man with an unruly mop of black hair. The young man stopped a few feet away from the man's chair, his back ramrod straight.

"Watashi wa denrei ja nai," he said harshly to the dark haired man in what sounded like Japanese, before he turned on his heel and walked past me towards a door we had passed on our way in, closing it with an audible click.

The silence that followed was so thick you would have needed a machete to hack your way out of it.

"Please pay no attention to Light, he is suffering from jet lag," the man said in a monotone voice, reaching out to pick up a silver spoon and stir awkwardly at his tea, "do you take sugar in your tea commissioner?"  
"No," I said, feeling safer for having questions I could answer and not, as of yet, being challenged for my intrusion.  
"Please take a seat," the man turned to look at me with large, dark eyes underlined with dark smudges, "your company was uncertain but not unexpected. I took the liberty of checking your file and would have contacted you sooner or later."

I sat uncertainly in the chair next to Diana, trying to avoid the glares she was sending my way despite this man's words.

"I don't think I caught your name," I said as coolly as I could.  
"And you probably never will," the man smirked, looking to all intents and purposes like a little boy with a secret, "I am L, and I have a favour to ask of you both."

* * *

"Watashi wa denrei ja nai" is supposed to mean "I'm not your messenger" but as I am not fully fledged in Japanese yet this may be (and more than likely _is_) worng, so I'm sorry if it is, but that's the loose translation if it's anywhere near accurate :D

**AN:** sorry to stop it at such an awkward place, but the rest takes place in another scenario that just didn't gel with this one, so I'm putting it into another chapter. He he, poor Raito, having to put up with L. Anyways, please review!

Maiko


	6. Organised Offender

**Chapter 6**

Organised Offender

The sounds of busy feet and mouths were cut off as I snapped the door shut. Better, much better, the silence. My head had been pounding since the night before, around eleven o'clock. I'd hardly slept, feeling the tension in my shoulders worsen until I felt like I couldn't stand lying down any longer. Spent the rest of the night and all of the morning sitting on the couch watching television until my eyes had become so heavy that I could hardly see the screen, yet still I couldn't sleep. Now I was sitting in an office that didn't feel like my own at all, in the middle of a workplace where I was sure at least sixty percent of the employees resented my presence, trying my best to get a handle on a case we had little to no information on. I sat down at my desk delicately, nursing the hot coffee in my right hand. I took a sip slowly, savouring the taste. Brought from home, no vending machine crap; basically felt like it was all that was getting me through the morning. I looked up towards the table beside the window, sunlight streaming in. Commissioner Rose wasn't in yet, which made me curious, yet I didn't think that waiting until he arrived before I started work was a good idea. I stood up and walked over to the door, cringing internally as I opened it and the loud, abrasive sounds of the office assaulted me. Thankfully the person I was looking for was close at hand.

"Janet," I said as the young blonde officer passed by my me with a stack of folders in her hands; I ignored the blank look she gave me in preference of giving her my request and retreating to my office as soon as possible, "could you please have the case files for the Whitaker suicide sent to my office as soon as possible?"  
"Yes, sir," she said, no hint of the smile which she used with everyone else.

Despite her cold demeanour she didn't let it affect her job; she returned five minutes later with a small cardboard archive box. I frowned as Janet placed it on my table.

"I was led to believe that we had little information on the death," I asked as I walked towards the box, reaching for the lid, "Is there really enough to fill a box?"

Janet looked at me with confusion, her hand on the door frame as she made to leave

"No, sir, you don't understand," she said, "this is all the information. They're filed together."  
"Together?" I asked, confused, "What's filed together?"  
"That's how I found them," she said, as if it explained everything, and then left.

I appreciated the silence, but not the lack of information. I spun the box around and read the label, printed in bold black ink: Suicide Case. I pulled off the lid and pulled out the first two case files, Crawford Whitaker and James Kidd? The other three were labelled Halloren, McAllister and Phillips, all names of recent suicides in the New York area. I hadn't been informed that a link had been detected between the five deaths...I needed to speak to Commissioner Rose about this. I looked up to the window which surveyed the office. Trying to decide who to trust in this place was going to be a nightmare.

Better to make a start of this on my own and see if there was even a link between them or if this was simply a filing error. I pulled the rest of the information out of the box and set about laying out the evidence. The table wasn't large enough to hold all of the extra notes and crime scene photographs, so I quickly began filling up my, thankfully empty, pin board.

First victim found was Sean McAllister; I pinned the photo of his corpse at the top left of the board, quickly reading over the notes. Fifty five years old, joint partner at a top law firm, Johnson and McAllister. Discovered by his wife when he didn't return to bed, found dead hanging from the central light fixture in his kitchen where he had been preparing a sandwich. Unlikely pastime for someone contemplating suicide. The wife had informed officers that McAllister had not seemed depressed or disturbed over the past few weeks, in fact she hadn't noted any change in his behaviour whatsoever and there seemed to be no major events which would stress him into committing suicide; they had been planning to go on a trip to Italy next week for Christmas.

Next was Samuel Phillips, sixty two years old, found by a junkie in central park who had robbed his corpse for cash. He was later caught trying to contact a dealer and, when the officer hassled him for information on where he got the money, he gave up the location of the body. South end of the park, propped against a tree, wrists slit. He also had a high end job, chairman of Bellvue advertising, worked a two day week making sure the company was being run the way he wanted it to be. No wife or kids, a brother in Pennsylvania who he hadn't contacted in over ten years. Lonely man with failing control over his company? Suicide didn't seem a far stretch, but then why the undignified staging of the event? Central park under a tree where anyone could find him? He seemed far too closeted in his everyday life for such an overt display. It had all the classic signs of an arranged crime scene, a killing specifically designed to humiliate the victim and shock whoever finds the body. I pinned him next to McAllister thoughtfully. Things weren't adding up for either suicide so far.

Crawford Whitaker was the only man with a confirmed time of death as a witness saw him fall from the Queensboro Bridge at approximately five forty in the morning. Witness said that it was only about ten or so minutes after the time had been announced as half five on the radio. Whitaker was fifty nine, chief editor of the NY Daily News, and the only victim I had come into contact with while working on a case for the FBI; a nervous man with low self esteem, as far as I could recall. When the body was found it was discovered that Whitaker had slit open his abdomen before falling from the Queensboro Bridge where he had been hanging precariously, as if to make sure that he fell once he'd completed his evisceration. It was by far the most brutal of the five deaths, inconsistent with ninety five percent of suicides, which tended to be more passive and quick, and more consistent with a killer who again wants to shock whoever finds the body. It also seemed highly unlikely that a meek man like Whitaker would have the gumption to cut open his own body in such an overt display of self hatred. Usually any killer who eviscerates his or her victims receives some kind of sexual or self satisfying gratification from the process. Yet no killer was seen by the witness at the scene, although it was dark and the witness was travelling in a car at the time. Also, why the mutilation if he was going to jump from the bridge? Was it a safety measure to make sure he didn't survive or a message?

James Kidd, forty six, and Derek Halloren, fifty nine, were discovered around the same time, about six o'clock in the morning. Kidd by his eleven year old son in his family home and Halloren by two women on their way to work. Kidd was an investment banker at Knight Savings and Investments, Halloren was joint partner of Halloren and Grawley, a very influential man with connections all the way to the mayor's office. Kidd seemed like small fry in comparison. Halloren jumped from his top floor office and fell thirty stories to the sidewalk. Pathologists said that he probably died of a heart attack before he hit the ground, but with the mutilation the body suffered after impact it was hard to tell; he did have angina, so the summation seemed accurate. Kidd was a different story, and perhaps the most incongruous of the group. He was the only one of the five to leave a suicide note, but died of seemingly natural causes, a fatal heart attack that killed him instantly. No harm to the body, no sign of overdose or chemical assistance in the blood. I pinned his picture at the centre of the other four, creating the shape of the five on the side of a six sided dice.

They were suicides, yet they seemed incongruously related. I read over the autopsy notes for each victim again, noting the similar records for time of death. As the bodies had been found quite quickly after each death the T.o.D. was usually very accurate. They had all died within about a half hour of each other, if not closer. Something was definitely wrong here, I thought as I continued to pin the evidence to the board, struggling to connect the victims to each other. If it weren't for the extraordinary circumstances these deaths took place in, the pattern was classic of an organised offender, someone who commits a meticulously planned crime in a premeditated manner, leaving few to no clues. Their victims are usually picked for specific reasons, almost always highly personal to the killer, ranging from hair colour to past offences against the killer themselves. Yet as far as the police were concerned there was no connection and, in the long run, if they hadn't all come in the same box I perhaps wouldn't have considered the idea as quickly as I had. I needed a better medium to connect the crime scenes to the victims, I decided, feeling my blood flow faster through my veins as I felt that same old adrenaline rush which I'd always felt whenever on the verge of discovering a vital clue. I needed a map.

"Janet," I said, her smile fading back to the blank look she'd used on me before and I did a good job of not reacting to it at all, "is there any way you could get me a map of the New York area?"  
"There's one in the commissioner's office," she said before focusing back on her work; I could take a hint.

Thankfully the office wasn't locked, which I found odd but I wasn't about to question a fortuitous situation. I found the map on the wall, framed. It was perfect, shame I'd have to run the risk of being fired by stealing it. I felt anger simmering under my calm demeanour as I thought about Janet being purposefully unhelpful when all I was trying to do was my job. I closed the door behind me as I left the office. There must be another map I could use around here somewhere...

"Chief?" a pleasant voice said from behind me; I turned to find detective McLean standing there, "you look a little lost, can I help you with anything?"  
"...Actually yes," I said, feeling a little thrown by his amiability considering nearly everyone else was passively hostile, "I'm looking for a map of New York."  
"I'm sure that I have one in my office, just let me get it," he smiled but despite his friendliness I decided not to take any chances .  
"I'll come and get it, I'm kind of in a hurry," I said, hearing the tension in my voice and trying to neutralise it.  
"Alright," Mclean looked startled at first but didn't question me; I liked him more by the second.

I had forgotten, unfortunately, in my haste that detective McLean shared his office with detective Laytner. I remembered the outrage obvious in Laytner's eyes when Commissioner Rose had introduced me yesterday. When I walked in and saw him behind his desk I almost felt the need to freeze in my tracks, like I'd been caught sneaking into the office to enjoy some away time from the hostility outside. Yet, strangely, the fire in his eyes wasn't quite as fierce as it had been. He even nodded to me civilly before continuing with whatever work he had on his desk. I attributed his calmer demeanour to McLean; the two seemed very close and I felt that, despite his rather passive personality, that McLean was more dominant in their professional relationship than he let on.

"Here you are," my eyes snapped to McLean as he handed me the map.  
"You don't mind if I draw on it do you?" I asked, feeling like I should try and be as compliant as possible.  
"Knock yourself out sir," he smiled.

I took the map back to my office and laid it out on the desk which I'd cleared by pinning everything to the board. Then I set about marking out the crime scenes and, in the case of all the victims except Kidd and McAllister, their home addresses. If this was a killer, I thought as I mapped out the hot spots on the map, the MO for each killing was inconsistent with a single profile of a serial killer; unless the killer had severe multiple personality disorder and the ability to teleport around the city, then we were looking at a highly organised group of suspects. However, the killing of Whitaker could be seen as a blitz attack, the sign of an unorganised killer, while McAllister was found hung, which suggests a revenge attack, yet there were no signs of forced entry and the house was locked up for the night. What was the connection between the victims that would bring such an unlikely group of suspects together?

"You've been busy."

I physically jumped and spun round, only to find Commissioner Rose in the doorway, coffee in hand and an amused expression on his face. I swallowed, feeling like an idiot, and amazed at how engrossed I had become in my musings that I hadn't heard the door open. I glanced at the clock and realised that I had been working for over two hours already without noticing the passage of time.

"I thought I'd better stop in and see how you were getting on," he said as he closed the door, then his expression turned serious; he walked over to stand beside me and look at my board intently, "is there any reason you have all five of these men pinned to your board Chief?"

For a moment I thought I was in trouble, but quickly dismissed my fears in order to explain myself as quickly as possible.

"We've been assigned the Crawford Whitaker case, since there was suspicion of foul play," I said as picked up the case file just so I had something to hold in my hands, "and Janet delivered the other four cases in the same box. When I looked through the reports and the unusual circumstances of each I feel that there is a connection between at least three if not all of these suicides."

He looked at me in silence for a whole thirty seconds before taking a sip of his coffee and eyeing the board intently.

"Explain," he said shortly.  
"Well..." I hesitated, feeling suddenly nervous; I took a deep breath and decided the best way to banish my nerves was by explaining my reasoning, which I always found therapeutic, "McAllister and Kidd were the obvious suicides, yet McAllister showed none of the classic or even rare signs of a man contemplating suicide, while Kidd was happily married, financially stable and expecting his second child; plus the fact that he seemingly died of natural causes but had enough foresight to write a suicide note. Neither fits the profile on initial investigation. Halloren and Whitaker both died in suspicious circumstances, each with a death that ended in mutilation to the body, while Samuel Phillips was supposed to have committed suicide in Central Park even though this method of suicide contradicts entirely with his isolated nature. The scene seems staged and little blood was found at the scene, suggesting the body was exsanguinated elsewhere and then moved."

Rose continued to watch me carefully even as I stopped speaking. I cleared my throat and forced myself to continue, feeling like my theory was more and more crazy as I said it out loud. What was I thinking, I never doubted my theories without just cause, why was this man making me feel so unsure?

"Your theory?" he asked expectantly.  
"These suicides seem to me more like specific victims, targeted by a group of highly organised suspects, which would account for the unorthodox variation in MO and the close times of death for each victim."  
"Links between the victims?" he asked, taking another sip of coffee.  
"I was, uh, just about to work on that sir," I said, scratching the back of my neck.  
"Call me Rose, or Commissioner if you have to, anything but sir," he said with a smile that instantly put me at ease yet seemed more like a mask than genuine affection, "and there's no need to be nervous. No theory is crazy enough not to tell someone about, believe me I've heard crazier things which turned out to be true. What's this for?"

He pointed to the map on the table, with my half formed scribbles.

"Geographical profiling," I said, feeling like I was being questioned by a professor back in university.  
"They teach you that in the academy?" he asked with a sceptical raise of his eyebrow.  
"University," I said, feeling uncomfortable.  
"When did you graduate?" he frowned, obviously doing the math in his head equivalent to my age.  
"Nineteen ninety eight" I said, watching his eyes widen.  
"When you were seventeen?" he said with disbelief.

I nodded. He blinked and shook his head for a moment.

"What did you study?" he asked.  
"Psychology, with a masters in socio-psychotic behaviour and a post graduate in aberrant and criminal psychology," I said, hearing the defensive tone slipping back into my voice; I really wasn't used to being around people who didn't know me very well, was I?

He stared for another moment, a little wide eyed. Then he seemed to hesitate, staring into his coffee for a few seconds before coming to some sort of decision. He looked at me seriously.

"There'll be a meeting at two o'clock in my office," he said, "I'd like you to attend."  
"Of course si-Commissioner," I quickly corrected.  
"Great," his smile turned genuine for a fraction of a second before settling back to his mask, "good work Chief Braithwaite."

I don't think I've ever been so relieved to have someone leave me alone in a long time. There was something both comforting and entirely unsettling about Commissioner Berkley Rose. At least he hadn't asked me any more questions about my education; I thought he was might start questioning the legitimacy of my qualifications if he'd asked me to list any more.

"What does the old lech want with us now?" I groused as Ryo led us towards the Commissioner's office.  
"Dee, please try and be civil," Ryo said patiently, giving me a stern look, "and I'm not sure what the meeting is about, he didn't tell me. He just asked us to be at his office for two."  
"Yeah, well," I shrugged, feeling the usual uncomfortable shiver up my spine whenever Berkley Rose came within twenty feet of me, "_he_ better keep it civil too."

Ryo sighed a long suffering sigh before stopping at the Commissioner's door and knocking. A muffled voice asked us to enter and we stepped inside. I closed the door behind me, but not before noting that there were already a handful of other people in the office. Drake nodded to me, holding JJ down manually to stop him from springing on me, as the young brunette waved enthusiastically in my direction. It was my turn to sigh a long suffering sigh and take a seat beside Ryo. Then I noticed Chief Braithwaite sitting to Rose's left, looking confident but out of place, staring into the middle distance. Rose was sat behind his desk, arms folded. He cleared his throat to get our attention.

"Now that you're all here, I must ask that whatever is said in this room, never leaves this room," he said calmly, his serious manner throwing me off a little; where was his playboy smirk and confident attitude? "as you know we have been assigned the case of Crawford Whitaker because of the chance of foul play but further evidence has arisen which has escalated this case...there is a police van downstairs ready to leave in thirty minutes. You have until then to decide whether you want to take part in this investigation and..." he held up his hand as we all started to interrupt him, "...I know you would like to know what is going on but, well, I'm going to have to ask you to trust me when I tell you that I can't. The information attached to this case is highly classified and all I am at liberty to tell you that your lives will be put in serious danger if you decide to participate. This is a case of national security and you will be working with very sensitive information that could cause outright panic if it was ever leaked to the press. I need to know if you are willing to take part in this investigation considering the sacrifices you will have to make. A lot is at stake here people."

Wow. Okay, not the way I was expecting my afternoon to go. I closed my mouth when I realised I was gaping at Rose and blinked, looking to Ryo who shrugged back.

"You want us to just...choose?" I said, realising the stupidity of my question but feeling that it was at least relevant, "You haven't told us anything. How long would this be for?"  
"An indeterminate amount of time," Rose replied.  
"Why is this investigation so crucial?" Drake asked.  
"I can't tell you that," Rose said.  
"Why is there a van?" Ryo asked, frowning, "Why do we have to leave the station to conduct this investigation? Are we working with the FBI on this?"  
"Sort of," Rose said evasively; why did he still give in to Ryo so much, I thought bristling.  
"So this is a case of national security if the FBI are involved," I said, putting my hands on my hips, "you really can't tell us anything else?"  
"No," he said sternly.  
"But why are we here?" JJ piped up, looking around the room in confusion, "I mean, why just us?"  
"I was told to assemble my best and most trusted officers to form a task force to help counteract this threat," he said cryptically.  
"Oh yeah?" I smirked, "Then what the hell am I doing here?"  
"This is not time for sarcasm Laytner," Rose said, his eyes hardening, "despite our differences at least I can concede that you are a trustworthy, intelligent detective. It would be appreciated if you too could be as civil."

Okay, I think my jaw was hanging open again. I closed it, feeling foolish, like a little kid who'd been caught playing one up's in the playground.

"Uh, yeah," I said folding my arms, "sorry."

Rose sighed and rubbed at the bridge of his nose, looking to all intents and purposes as tired and harassed. I even felt a little bit sorry for him, which surprised the hell out of me. I noted that Braithwaite had been suspiciously quiet for the entire meeting.

"Well," Drake said with a shrug of his shoulders, "if it's as serious as it sounds, you can count me in. Anything I can do to help, I'm your man."

Rose looked surprised at Drakes candidness, but nodded.

"If Drake goes, I'm going too," JJ said loyally, with little trace of his usual air-headedness.  
"You know I'm in Commissioner," Braithwaite finally spoke, confirming to me that he did have prior knowledge of this.  
"Ryo?" I said, turning to my partner unsurely.

Somehow, and I did feel selfish in thinking this, I felt as if I had something to lose that the others didn't by taking up this request. To say Ryo had become my world would maybe be melodramatic, but it was also fairly accurate. Anything that would put him into serious danger was something I would take a long hard time thinking about before I capitulated. Yet I knew how headstrong and justice blinded Ryo could be and, if he decided he was going, then I wouldn't hesitate in being there to protect him, no matter how much he decided he didn't need it.

"Dee, this sounds really serious," he said, almost pleading with his eyes as if he could see what was going through my mind.  
"I know but..." I couldn't say it here, even though Drake and JJ definitely knew that we were in a relationship, and I was sure Rose suspected, "come on. Rose said it would be dangerous."  
"Is that reason enough to shirk our responsibility?" Ryo said sternly.  
"What about Bikky?" I said, going straight for the low blow.  
"Bikky will understand," Ryo said, showing me he'd definitely made his bloody mind up and I could just try and change it.

Aw hell, I thought letting my head drop down while I thought about the ramifications of this mystery quest of Rose's. Fuck it.

"You can count us in," I said, looking straight at Rose and, at least on some level, appreciating his small nod of acknowledgement.

"Care to tell me why you're being so trusting on this case?"

I had been so absorbed in studying the limited case files, which Commissioner Rose had been able to provide me with electronically, that I hardly heard Raito speak. I looked up to find him standing to my right, his arms folded while he stared towards my laptop screen as if without seeing it. He looked defiantly tired, probably refusing to sleep so he could adapt more quickly to the different time zone. I also noted that he was speaking in English.

"I don't want to waste time," I said, giving him an incomplete answer, knowing he wouldn't leave it at that.  
"That's not the only reason though, is it?" he said, taking a seat beside me on the couch, "You feel responsible for Raye Penber and Naomi Misoura. You want to make it up to this FBI agent, Diana Spacey."  
"You suspect me of being subjective in relation to a case as serious as this?" I asked.  
"I suspect you of having more human elements than you are aware of," Raito said drowsily.  
"You slept on the plane Raito-kun," I said.  
"It didn't help," he said tonelessly, "my body clock is all out of kilter. What time is it?"  
"Two thirty five in the afternoon," I said back, my eyes never leaving the screen, "your accent has improved since this morning."  
"I've been practicing," he said defensively, "it's kept me awake at least."  
"You should get some rest," I suggested, knowing what kind of reception that advice would receive.  
"I'm fine," he said coldly, "if I sleep now I'll never adjust."  
"You will be of little use if you can't keep your eyes open Raito-kun."  
"I want to see these people you've invited rashly into our investigation."

'_Our investigation_': that at least gave me hope. I smirked a little, looking to him out of the corner of my eye. He looked despondent and exhausted. I found it in myself to feel slightly guilty for his predicament, but pushed the feeling away.

"So you are feeling more inclined to work together now?" I asked.  
"Don't push it," he said, his eyes drifting closed, before he blinked them back open and sat up, "give me something to do before I fall asleep."

As if by his request my laptop beeped impatiently and Watari's signal blinked in the bottom right hand corner. I connected and his face opened in a new window.

"Your guests have arrived," he said.  
"Is Miss Spacey with you?" I asked.  
"She has also just arrived sir," Watari explained, "should I send her up first?"  
"Please do," I said, waiting for his acknowledgement before shutting down the connection, "and then escort the other to the room Watari. Perhaps this will keep you awake?"  
"Depends on how infuriatingly dull they are," Raito said in an obvious attempt to pull me into a conversation; I knew Raito was not that obtuse.  
"Now, now," I said closing my lap top and standing from the couch, "no need to be hasty Raito-kun."

He gave me glare for that one, which I enjoyed immensely. It wasn't long before I heard the ping of the elevator arriving on our floor and waited for Diana Spacey to enter. I had given her the passkey to enter the room and hoped that wouldn't set Raito off on another snide lecture about being too trusting.

"The bureau already knows you're here," she said as she entered, "they clocked your private jet as soon as it entered our airspace."  
"As I knew it would," I replied, stuffing my hand in my pockets, "are they inclined to help?"  
"You know they're not," she said back.  
"I suspected as much," I nodded back, "so they won't want you working with me either?"  
"Look at it this way," she said looking tired, "my section head knows that you've propositioned me. He knows my history with Raye and Naomi. He also was, luckily for you, one of your supporters during the whole debacle. He wants the person responsible for their deaths to be caught just as much as I do. He's willing to loan me out unofficially for now, but I don't know how long he'll be able to justify my absence."  
"Then there's little point in wasting any more of our time," I said, quickly indicating to Raito, "this is my associate Light Yagami."  
"Pleased to meet you," Raito said civilly, even going as far as to smile; turning on the charm to make her feel at ease.  
"Hi," Diana said with an answering smile, "I thought I recognised you, from the pictures I mean. I was so sorry to hear about your father."  
"Thank you," Raito replied, a tinge of coldness seeping into his tone.

Thankfully the sound of the elevator interrupted us and I waited for Watari to escort our motley crew into the room. Rose was followed by a short brunette who was looking intently at everything, a taller man with a lethargic expression, a tall man with striking black hair and a suspicious air, a slighter chestnut haired man with dark eyes and a red head I immediately identified as Kay Braithwaite. I was glad Rose had brought him along on instinct so that I didn't have to request that he join the task force. I had heard many good things about him.

"Well, well, Diana Spacey," the man with black hair said as he stopped near the doorway, not yet acknowledging myself or Raito.  
"Dee Laytner," she smirked back, "I'm surprised Berkley listed man-apes as a required field on the team."  
"Gee, some people just never change," Laytner said back, looking over to me with a hard stare, "going to introduce us or will the mystery continue?"

I smiled at him, purely to see if it unnerved him. He was good at hiding his reactions, I realised, a useful trait.

"Well, now that we're all here," I said, "perhaps you should know why."  
"First things first," the chestnut haired man interrupted, "I think introductions are in order."  
"Of course," I said, "where are my manners."

I stopped, reversing the apology into an insult as I waited instead for them to introduce themselves.

"Dee Laytner, NYPD," the dark haired man said succinctly, not waiting to mess around.  
"Randy McLean," the chestnut haired man said.  
"Drake Walman," the lethargic man next.  
"Kay Braithwaite," he said unnecessarily.  
"Jemmy J. Adams," said the final man, "but everyone calls me JJ; and you are?"  
"This is Light Yagami, my associate," I said pausing for a moment, "and I am L."

They all went through different stages of shock and disbelief. Unsurprisingly it was Laytner who spoke up first.

"Right, and I'm Abraham Lincoln," he snorted, "Rose is this some sort of elaborate set up?"  
"Show some respect Laytner, or I'll have you shipped back to your desk faster than you can say 'fired'," Rose said with a glare, "and McLean won't be going with you."  
"You're asking for a lot," Drake spoke next, "expecting us to just accept that we're being summoned to the hotel room of the most famous detective in the world, out of the blue. I mean, I thought L was notorious for never letting anyone see his face."  
"So did I," Raito chose to speak up with a smirk.  
"I would appreciate you not trying to undermine my authority Raito-kun," I said, looking at him over my shoulder, "and I understand your scepticism. I thought perhaps that your respect for your Commissioner and Miss Spacey would be proof enough at first instance. I see that it is not."  
"Maybe if you explain why you've brought us here," McLean asked seriously, "the details were rather vague."

I looked to Raito for a moment, trying to judge his reaction, but he simply rolled his eyes like a petulant teenager and sighed.

"Please everyone, take a seat and I will explain."

AN: And yes, before you say it, I have been watching too much Criminal Minds. He he. I love Dr Reid. Anyways, just borrowing the idea, not the character as such. Please review if you have the time.


End file.
